


A Lifetime in a Moment

by Celine1618



Series: Before [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celine1618/pseuds/Celine1618
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Cosima meets an intriguing blonde on the train to Barcelona.  An instant connection grows throughout the day as they explore the city.  What could possibly happen in just twenty-four hours?  Mature rating for future chapters, but we are going to go on a long fluffy walk first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cosima slumped slightly in her seat, ignoring the huffs from the couple behind her, trying to lose her thoughts in the slight jostle and sway of the train car, in the pages before her. This was the last leg of an impromptu - probably ill-advised - trip through a small piece of Western Europe. She was making her way through the beautiful port city of Valencia on to Barcelona, where she’d fly home tomorrow. She thought she'd find some clarity in solo travel, walking alone down cobblestone streets, through ancient harbors, break free of the expectations that shaped her limited world view, her place in it. Hostel-hopping had been a mixed bag, meeting some interesting people, with whom she’d share a day or two, but mostly it had just meant lonely nights in musty, small quarters, each one much like the last.

She hadn't found any answers. Maybe this was it. No answer was answer enough.

So far the only thing she'd found positively distracting on this trip was the blonde sitting across from her, clearly distracted herself.

The couple behind her had been in a tense standoff for the past half hour. In a crumpled suit, the man snapped his copy of Levante loudly as he turned the pages, looking over the edges at his wife, who was clearly unamused, bristling at some recent slight or past indiscretion. The tension radiated off them in waves, putting everyone in the car on edge. 

Cosima looked down, lightly gripping the magazine in her lap, focusing. Just within her peripheral vision she saw the far door open.

A teenage boy ambled down the aisle, all long arms and legs, holding two small coffees, eyes focused on his destination at the back of the car. The train lurched as he passed the couple, the brown liquid splashed toward the older man in a graceful, inevitable arc. Alarm then anger flashed across the man’s face as it hit, his frustration audible to the entire car: he had found a target for the unspoken, unspeakable tension at his table. Lashing out at the young boy as he rattled off what Cosima imagined must be expletive-laden Spanish, grabbing his bag and his wife - who looked more annoyed at him than the boy - they headed off toward the back of the car.

The boy must be in tatters, Cosima thought briefly, but couldn't really focus on the scene. Her attention drawn instead to the stunning blonde sitting diagonally across from her, who, just moments before, had been gazing out the window, a white cord dangling under soft curls. Cosima looked at her now, seeing such a mix of emotions playing out across the woman’s face at the scene. She was transfixed, initially startled, clearly, but something else sparked behind her eyes - was it defiance? She was gripping the armrest, as if at any moment she may burst from her seat to save the young man from such mistreatment. She glanced at Cosima then, their eyes meeting in a brief flash. The blonde blushed at having her emotions so clearly found out and dropped her head. 

“Do you know what he was saying to the poor guy?” Cosima asked softly, leaning forward.

The blonde looked back up, lifting her soft, hazel eyes to meet the small woman’s gaze. “Mmmm, no, my Spanish is not very good. But it did not seem pleasant, no?”

When she heard that accent - smooth velvet, but also airy - Cosima’s features shifted, looking at the blonde with amusement, edged with wonder. “You’re French?”

The blonde laughed softly, her curls bouncing around creamy, pale skin and hazel eyes. “Oui. And, you are American,” she stated.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Well, you are in Spain, and you ask a French girl to interpret for you - in English.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, her tone playful. 

“Owhh, idiot American,” Cosima’s hands spun in the air apologetically, her dreads bouncing with the motion, “you got me there." She winced slightly.

“I think that is not true,” she said as she gestured at the Scientific American in the brunette’s hands, “that was also a sign as to your origins, non?” She waited a beat, and asked, “What kind of science is this ... Scientific American interested in?” She seemed to giggle a bit at her own joke. “You seemed to be working out a problem the past hour.” She mimicked the American’s furrowed brows, in mock seriousness.

_She’s been watching me the past hour? Did she notice me sneaking glances at her? Oh god, how adorable is that face?_

“Oh, um,” Cosima started, stumbled, then her hands were cutting through the air as she continued, “well, I mean, like, everything really. From the smallest cell, or protein even, to the vast expanses of space, there’s so much to wonder at, you know? I am interested in all of it.”

Their eyes locked for a long moment, something unexpected passing between them. The French woman’s eyes softened as a small smile passed her lips. Cosima, for her part, could not stop her eyes from drifting down as the woman pulled her lip lightly between teeth. Her heart fluttered and a bolt shot through her. 

“C’est vrai,” she said simply. “That is true.”

Cosima grinned, her tongue just peaking past eye teeth.

That expression warmed the blonde in a way she couldn’t explain. “It is so lovely to hear someone speaking about the wonders of the universe, instead of, of all of this,” she waved toward the tray table still slightly covered with coffee. 

She smiled again, a bit wider. “Still you didn’t tell me, what had you so enthralled the past hour?”

 _You_ , Cosima thought.

“Oh, well, I was reading about prion diseases, um, like mad cow disease? It’s like a misfolded protein that propagates in the brain, infects other cells, and then misfolds other proteins,” the words were tumbling out as her hands spun, missing the look of disbelief and amusement coloring the other woman’s features. 

“Um, like, a virus, a bit. It’s hella awful and causes really precipitous cognitive decline, fatal insomnia, like totally the worst way to go, am I right? They are just beginning to discover how these diseases affect humans.”

She nodded. She was awed by how this girl summed up a whole discipline of molecular biology, accessible, excitable, warm. _Mon dieu,_ hella, _how charming is this woman?_ She pushed the thought aside and smiled.

Cosima continued, “Anyway. This article suggests that prions themselves might actually hold the key to staving off dementia!” Her hands fell out to each side in exclamation, as she huffed slightly. “It’s incredible how little we understand, isn’t it? That this awful thing might be the key to holding on to our most precious memories ...”

Coming back to the moment, Cosima was slightly embarrassed for going on. “I’m sorry, I just totally dorked out on you there.”

Not sure how to respond, the blonde smiled, fully aware of the blush spreading across her cheeks, trying to figure out how to communicate their shared interest. “No, no, not at all. I think I must be ‘dorking’ out too,” she said slowly, unsure of the phrase. She reached into the bag at her side, pulling something just to the top, then stopping, turning to the brunette. “That was a wonderful summary, by the way, but you forgot to mention that prions often originate in lymphatic tissue,” she said, grinning, as she pulled the item just over the lip of her bag, revealing the Swiss journal _Frontiers in Immunology_.

Jaw going slack, a mix of astonishment, confusion, and - was it glee? - pulsed through her. Cosima knew the blonde's words were a cover to demonstrate their shared interest, and she couldn’t help the wide, genuine grin breaking across her features, tongue pressing against teeth. 

“Maybe we can talk about the wonders of the universe over coffee. Somewhere stable?” the blonde asked, eyebrows raising slightly in question, nodding to the front of the train “Dining car?”

Cosima nodded immediately, words momentarily lost to her. Only later would she wonder if she had seemed a bit too eager, a bit too taken with this unexpected, beautiful French woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I posted this last month, and when I tried to update it last week while on the road - a fatal error for someone with my level of tech savvy - I apparently deleted the whole work. I'm trying to get it reposted now. So sorry to those of you who took the time to give kudos or comments. Your lovely comments meant so much! Keep them coming. New chapter (7) (and all the previous ones) will be up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonders of the universe over coffee. Or the chapter in which we learn more about why our favorite French scientist was so distracted on the train.

As they stood to gather their things, Cosima noticed the blonde’s willowy frame, long, slender arms and legs. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the black lace bra underneath a billowing white blouse and jeans, snug in all the right places. She tried not to stare, looking surreptitiously from the side as she gathered her bags.

The French woman, for her part, was taken with the small woman’s dreads as she leaned over, how they hung around her shoulders and swayed a little at first, and then all at once, as if their collective momentum hurled them on. But she also noticed the lean muscles of the small woman’s arms, exposed through a structured tank top of fractals over billowy, burgundy trousers.

Everything about her hinted at strength. She couldn’t quite make sense of the spark she felt, but she knew she wanted to know more about this little American.

They sat at a table, immediately attended by a waiter. Cosima called for an iced coffee, black, the other woman, a café au lait. They shared a quick glance, an easy laugh.

“It is so nice to meet a friend on the train! These trips can be so long and tedious,” she mentioned with a wave of her hand, then settling it on the table.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Cosima said abruptly, “Surely I sounded … full of myself or completely stupid …. I’m sorry I presumed someone like …” she trailed off, stopping short, unsure how she’d been perceived, what false assumptions she’d made.

“Non! No. You were wonderful,” she stopped, slightly blushing, “it was a very intriguing overview. I didn’t realize manipulated prions were being considered as a treatment for dementia. This is, of course, very interesting to me. Wait, someone like?” Eyebrows knit slightly in confusion, a little nervous. “What am I like?”

Cosima’s eyes widened, startled, waving her hands, touching the blonde’s hands lightly, “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I mean, you’re … you’re beautiful, and French.” Her hands waved from the woman’s curls, downward. “Like, how could you also be into … prion diseases? That’s too perfect. The universe doesn’t just create beautiful, French, um, scientists? Especially ones with such adorably bad jokes.” Cosima leaned forward, lightly grasping the woman's hand and squeezing, her gaze all grinning teeth.

This flirtation felt so easy the blonde thought. She blushed slightly and laughed, light and low, warmth spreading to her fingertips as she brushed those of the small woman across from her. As she looked down she glimpsed indigo and black ink.

“Ohhhhh,” she gasped, “this design, on your wrist.”

She turned Cosima’s hand over, taking control, spurred on by her curiosity. Cosima gazed at her with a befuddled smile. The French woman traced the nautilus tattoo along Cosima’s wrist with her finger, sending a shiver through the smaller girl, “this is beautiful. Is this, Fibonacci’s spiral? Is this the Golden Ratio?”

Cosima fully grasped the woman’s hand in her upturned palm, urging their gazes to meet before she spoke.

“No one has ever guessed that before.” She searched the woman’s face, finding an open, curious expression. “But yes, that is it, exactly.”

“It’s beautiful, non, this symmetry?”

“Exactly! It’s sacred geometry. This,” she gestures to the ink on her wrist, “reminds me that the logical can be whimsical, that, that, nature can … swirl,” demonstrating with a twirl of the fingers of her free hand.

She looked at the brunette softly, pulling a full lip between ivory teeth, her hand still laid across Cosima’s other wrist. “That is lovely, mon ami.”

Cosima stopped for a beat, distracted, trying to ground herself. “Soooo, _Frontiers in Immunology_ , I feel like maybe you should tell me about that …?”

“Ah, oui, um, well,” pulled out of her reverie. “I have just finished my medical degree and am starting the portion of my studies for an immunology specialty. I am at Université Pierre et Marie Curie, or UPMC, in Paris. That’s where I’m heading now.”

“Wow. Smarty pants. That’s part of the Sorbonne, isn’t it?” Eyebrows raised, grinning as she noted the blonde’s small nod. “But … you don’t seem so … excited. You must be, what, 25 …27? How are you finished with your M.D. already!?”

“That’s why I am here. Why I was in Valencia. I am between two ideas – torn – of serving versus ambition and, what’s the term, “making my mark”?

Cosima nodded, urging her on.

“I was here to visit my grand-mere, my grandmother. She has always been my strength,” she says, unconsciously pulling her long fingers to her heart. “She gave me comfort when I was sad, basically saved me with her letters when I was at boarding school … I have been trying to decide what to do. My father wants me to follow a specialty, it supplies a better living and stability, is more important, he believes. But I want to go where the needs are greatest. Like she did.”

She looked off wistfully through the window, the fog and juniper blurring in a smear of green and grey. Pausing a long moment. Too long, she realizes, turning back to her companion.

“Mm, well, my grand-mere was a journalist before the war, turned spy during the occupation of France. She worked with the Canadians – though“ -- she stopped, looking at the small, cheeky American by her side and raised a brow -- “she was always particularly fond of an American OSS agent, her contact over the radio in the early days.” Why did she mention it? It was as though she was giving herself permission to like this woman. She thought her grandmother would like her, find her idioms and hand-talking charming.

“My grand-mere and grand-pere – they went on these dramatic, dangerous missions against the Nazis. They’d take your breath away to hear them: blowing up trains, freeing sex slaves, sneaking survivors past enemy lines. Easily mythologized by a child, but even now she is a legend to me. Some people deserve to be legends. Anyway.” 

The blonde looked up slightly, seeing warm hazel eyes urging her on, she continued. “I trust my grandmother’s advice implicitly. She always talks about helping those who have less power than ourselves, being part of something greater. Speaking to her always reminds me, not of ambition, but the desire to be useful, to do something meaningful.”

Seeing Cosima’s surprised expression, she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Wow. I have just been speaking of these things with her for the past week, and I find myself ... fixating, introspective?”

Cosima, now undeniably smitten, and barely able to speak, reached across the small table again and brushed her thumb over her delicate hand, “Please, this is the best story I’ve heard in ages, if you would like, tell me more.”

Smiling softly, she nodded and continued, “Well, so I am about to start this specialty for immunology. I’m interested in innovative gene therapy, autoimmune disorders. I’m particularly interested in CRISPR, do you know it?”

“No. Dude, that’s complex. Yes, I have heard of it,” Cosima said, tone and expression turning serious and harsh, pulling her hand away, the gesture proving more dramatic than she intended. "That’s a can of worms. It’s an amazing discovery, an astonishing, elegant technique, but it comes with a lot of bioethics baggage, don’t you think?”

“Oh, mm, yes, you are referring to the implications for genetic engineering, yes?” Cosima nodded. The blonde waved as if sweeping away the concern, “the science isn’t there yet. But we can target specific genetic mutations in bacteria and viruses, mutations that cause immune dysfunction, and simply _erase_ them, make them self-destruct. Poof! It opens up this whole world of individualized gene therapy.”

“Yes, but,“ Cosima tilted her head, skeptically, “the science is _nearly_ there for a host of eugenical experiments.” Cosima’s hands became animated, giving weight to her concern. “China has already been toying with designer embryos using CRISPR. I mean, welcome to the trip, man, this is like Gattaca-level shit. The implications are ... frightening.”

“Mmm, I think that is …” shortsighted, she might say, a conspiracy theory, ludicrous, but she didn’t want to argue, to offend this charming girl. “Well, I am often more taken in by the implications for eradicating disease, genetic predisposition.” Her tone deflated, “but there are ethical concerns, c’est vrai.” She dipped her head, eyes downcast, not sure where to go after such passion and opposition from the small brunette.

Cosima immediately recognized the effect she had, ashamed. This woman had just opened up to her, and her first response was to shoot her down. _Dammit, Cosima._

“Oh, like, I’m a total asshole. I’m so sorry. I just, I get sort of passionate about these things, but, totally, this approach could kick cancer’s ass, all manner of autoimmune disorders. I am with you. Like we should USE it, right? It’s a fascinating field, an amazing advancement, really important.”

“Merci …” her voice small, “But, the reason I am torn, the reason this is hard to reconcile has nothing to do with that, it is, well, I also love clinical work. The satisfaction of seeing a patient, solving the question before you, being part of something tangible.” She touched her thumb to her fingers then rubbed her fingers down to her palm in emphasis.

“My grand-mere, she always said that fear and ignorance shape conflict, give flight to the worst parts of ourselves. But if, instead, you extend a hand, demonstrate there is nothing to fear, that we are all the same, you can change the conversation. She talked of acts of kindness, in treating everyone you meet with respect, as a kind of … um … transgressive act? That’s what I could do. Healing as a transgressive act, to show and prove to others that we can change the conversation.”

She stopped for a beat, looking up, slightly abashed, expecting reproach, skepticism. She was met only by Cosima’s steady gaze, open, warm. “I must sound so idealistic, foolish.”

“No, absolutely not. You are incredible. Such a small word for … such a person.” The words had slipped out before she had a chance to self-edit. Slightly embarrassed.

“Mmm, mon ami, you are too kind.” Not lingering on the warmth she saw in the brunette’s eyes. “But the thing is: the big question before me: I have been invited to join Medecins san Frontiers, MSF, you know it?” She asks.

Cosima nods, seriously, “Yes, of course.”

“Well, I think of their work as particularly transgressive, if you will, in situations like they face in the DRC, in the West Bank, still on the Burmese border, so many places. I want to be part of it. I think I could be useful, but of course I am worried I may not do well under the pressure, perhaps I will not be okay without the comforts of home, perhaps I will fail? But I also think that if I don’t follow this call, that I will regret it. I had to ask my grandmother’s advice. Only she could tell me what path to take,” she finished with a sigh. A closed off sound that indicated the issue was not up for further discussion.

“Set you straight, your grandmother was the only one who could set you straight.”

“Oui, that sounds right. Except this time she didn’t. She said both paths were valid, were meaningful, it was for me to choose what in my heart felt right.”

“Hard to recover from such an introspective trip, right? You are still deciding, I take it?”

“Exactement.” She nodded her head, and offered another small smile.

A series of announcements came over the speaker, in Spanish, followed by French, English, German, announcing the next stop: Barcelona, 5 minutes.

Their eyes locked, a mixture of panic, sadness, expectation flickering across Cosima’s face.

“Oh, god, shit, I, um, I have to get off here. I’m catching a plane tomorrow back to the States. You, you … I know you are going back to Paris but … you should get off with me here. I can’t imagine finishing this conversation now,” Cosima’s gaze searching, her tone pleading. 

The French woman looked back, not answering, eyes wide, a bewildered look on her face.

“Um, think of it this way, maybe this moment right here is just a memory, a memory of an old woman who is looking back on her life, tracing those moments, those watershed moments where a different choice would have re-shaped her future, and she is looking back to this moment now, and thinking what might have been if she’d gotten off the train with this random American and wandered Barcelona aimlessly for a night? This is your opportunity to retrace, instead take a branch into an alternate universe.” She was talking fast, rambling earnestly, wondering how to sway the woman. “Besides couldn’t we all use a good lapse in judgment every now and then?” She grinned fully, and slightly cocked out her hip.

She looked deeply into Cosima’s eyes, searching, finding only mirth and a spark of mischief.

“Oui,” shaking her head slightly. “I can’t believe this, but yes.”

They grabbed their bags quickly, shuffling amongst the other passengers, trading sidelong glances as they jumped to the platform when the train stuttered to a stop.

“Um, I don’t think we actually met. I’m Cosima,” she said, extending her hand, looking up into the blonde’s open gaze, smiling widely.

She accepted it tenderly, running her free hand through wild curls and cocking her head to the side, “Delphine. Enchantee.”

“Enchantee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you interested, Radiolab recently did a two-part series on CRISPR and the Economist's August 22 cover article was on the "bioethics baggage" of this new technique.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, Cosima, where would you like to go? Barcelona is a wonderful city, one of my favorites, there is much to see.” Delphine shouldered her duffle and handbag, curls swaying slightly as she turned to smile at Cosima. Her open demeanor betrayed her bemusement at getting off the train, but she seemed willing to see what surprises the day might bring.

“Well, first, let’s store these bags here at the station?” Pointing at the bags between them. “We can just come back here and get them later. Free us up for more exploring, right? I had some places in mind, but I would love to see Barcelona through your eyes … if you’re up for being my tour guide.” She was grinning again, pink flashing behind white teeth.

“D’accord. The lockers are just down the platform. I could use some fresh air after sitting so long on the train. Was Parc Guell on your list? It is one of the many Gaudi sights here, and it has a great view over the city.”

Cosima nodded and smiled. They dodged the crowds in the cavernous station, Delphine led the way, carrying her long form with grace even under the weight of her bags. Cosima picked up her pace to catch up, pushing her cat-eye frames up her nose.

\-------

As they neared the entrance, Cosima could see the root system of a tree nestled between twin arcing staircases, those then flanked on either side by the distinctive, whimsical multi-domed structures associated with Gaudi, or at least his style at the time. Cosima thought the buildings looked like they were on a tilt, perhaps slightly drunk, a Dr. Seussian invention come to life. She knew her interpretation boiled a genius’ work down to a children’s fantasy, but she wasn’t sure he would have minded the comparison.

“I thought this might be a good example of where nature meets whimsy, Cosima,” waving at the entrance. Her thoughtfulness, recalling their earlier conversation, finding something she might like, warmed Cosima. And she loved the way her name sounded rolling off that French tongue. Her thoughts immediately bordered on inappropriate.

“Delphine, this is perfect. I was just thinking how the tree and the greenery contrast so bizarrely with these sort of drunken buildings,” she waved her hand in a sloping motion, hands surfing the wind. “Whimsical nature personified … or parkified, I guess,” she said a bit sheepishly. 

“Oui, they do look a bit drunk," as she laughed, looking at the woman's hands. "Let’s walk around, there are some great views, and the mosaics and sculptures are interesting.”

It was early afternoon, and the park was relatively empty, a weekday in late summer, few tourists milling about. As they walked, their hands occasionally brushed, and each woman could swear the other was sneaking glances, could feel the others’ gaze. They were both smiling lightly. 

_What is happening to me?_ Cosima thought, full of nervous energy, she was sure something more was blossoming, which made her more unsure of what to say to the blonde.

“The detail in these sculptures, the mosaics, all these intricate tiles. They really are beautiful, especially the way the light hits them.” 

“Hmm,” Delphine hummed, “yes, I like it up here at sunset the most. It is a strange little park. It has character, non? I believe originally, it was built as an intentional community in the early 1900s, meant to be a beacon of the latest technological advances, but also a statement for Catalonian independence. There are other … foundations … of the design, I think, political, philosophical, maybe. I cannot remember them now.”

“Yes, that’s right, I was reading about this. I think part of this park is modeled on the ancient temples of Apollo and the ancient city of Delphi, but also super, super Catholic. These architects crack me up. I mean, I read about all these influences, but they are such a mash-up it would be hard to discern if I hadn’t read my little guidebook you know?”

Delphine laughed lightly, “C’est vrai. It does seem a bit self-conscious, all the homages? But it still makes for a unique and beautiful park. It would be boring, no, if we could say, ah, yes, this is based on the temple of Apollo, and that is it,” to emphasize her point she slapped her hands across each other as if washing her hands of the issue.

“No, totally, for sure. How _derivative_ that would be,” Cosima said in a mock self-serious tone. “I like this park a lot, thank you for bringing us here.”

“Hmm, yes. I was just trying to remember,” she trailed off, as her eyes searched the park. “Ah, I see it now. I think there is a little trolley around the corner that sells crème glacée – ice cream – I could kill for some ice cream right now.”

“Perfect, yes!”  
\------

They took their ice cream to the plateau overlooking the city, Cosima leaned back against the parapet looking not at the city but back at Delphine. The taller woman’s long elegant frame folded over the edge looking out across the city, down to the sea, the light sparkling, bobbing in the slate grey water. The sun was peaking in and out of the clouds, a beam every now and then backlighting the blonde, casting her silhouette in gilded light. Cosima’s stomach flipped, and she grew quiet, contemplative, trying to get a grip on her emotions.

“What other adventures were on your list? Where should we head next?”

“Well, if I were being honest, I have been a little beat from sightseeing, and probably would have skipped right to La Sagrada Familia and then some great Catalan food with Spanish wine, maybe some guitar. But you have transformed my sad-sack plans into a day ripe with possibility. What do you think we should do?”

“Those sound like excellent plans. What kind of music do you like? Or are you only thinking Catalan guitar because … ‘when in Catalonia’?” Delphine’s tongue traced the length of the vanilla ice cream piled high in her cone. Cosima’s eyes were drawn to her lips, gaze lingering, momentarily forgetting herself. Delphine quirked an eyebrow, a look crossing her features, too quick to catch.

“Well, yes, but I do love music. It depends on my mood, what I’m listening for. Mostly though, I suppose electronic dance and ambient music. Have you heard of Phaelah or Mr. Scruff?” Delphine slightly shakes her head. “Okay, well Scruff’s got sick dance beats, and both are sort of perfect for,” she made a slight inhaling, sucking sound, motioning smoking a joint. 

“Ohhh, really. Cannabis?”

“Yesssss. Cannabis. You’re so cute. I’m from San Fran, so …” trailing off. “I also really like Kaki King, there’s your American guitar maestro right there,” her hands spinning in the air. “But, I mean like, I listen to Gregorian chants when I’m in the lab, totally focuses me. I’m all over the place. What about you? What’s, um, what kind of music do you like … or a better question … what songs do you associate with love?” This was uncharted territory, she wasn’t sure what response she’d get, as she looked at the blonde with a cocked eyebrow, challenging grin.

“That is very specific, Cosima.” Clearly the blonde was willing to follow this line of query. “Hm, well, do you know that song, from the late 80s,” she asked, switching to a sing-songy voice, “show me show me show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream, she said ...” 

“The Cure??”

She clapped. “Yes, Just Like Heaven. That’s it! Also Billie Holiday, Joni Mitchell. It seems all their songs are about finding love or losing it, their stuff breaks my heart.” Taking in Cosima’s knitted brows, “Are you okay?”

“I guess I just figured you’d go in for some sexy French crooner or alternative French rock group, or something,” she waved her hand, dismissing the thought.

Delphine let out an exasperated sigh. “You Americans and your impressions of the French! I suppose you expected me to rattle off Edith Piaf and sound ‘froggy’,” complete with air quotes, she imitated the most farsical impression, “ouh ouh ouh, I want to eat a ham-bargar.” She let her arms swing out slightly to the side. 

_As if she were … marching?_ Cosima thought. Rolling laughter burst from Cosima, uncontrollable, _probably unattractive_ , she thought, then she snorted. “That is the most awful, adorable thing I have ever heard Delphine, truly.”

“I did not mean to offend you at all,” laughter subsiding and Delphine’s slightly offended look fading. Cosima turned serious, shifting her body so she was looking directly at the tall blonde. “I like Joni too. In fact, I’m thinking of one particular song right now … _A Case of You_.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, Delphine pulling her bottom lip between ivory teeth. She slowly reached up, fingers brushing Cosima’s cheek, thumb lightly touching her chin, wiping away ice cream that had dripped in the smaller girl’s laughing fit. Holding her gaze, her fingers stilled slightly, as if she was making a decision, then she lifted her thumb to trace the smaller girl’s lips. The brunette’s tongue darted out lightly to lick the offered ice cream, the blonde let out a light gasp, closing her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What we have here is a lot of fluff at La Sagrada Familia. V. brief discussion of religion.

Two small children, siblings it seemed, trying to race and outpace the other, bumped into the two women, giggling as they did, their mother yelling at them in Spanish from a few yards away. The moment between them was lost, but Cosima would remember it, tuck it away so she could recall the look on the blonde’s face as she traced her lips. A small seed of hope was blossoming by the moment.

They both dipped their heads, shaking them slightly, not embarrassed, only warm from the exchange and lightly, humorously cursing the small kids, still running around and between them. 

“Shall we make our way to La Sagrada Familia, then, as our next destination? I believe it is maybe a 20 minute walk from here.”

Cosima nodded slowly, deeply dipping her head. “Yeah, dude, sure, that sounds great. It’s, what, 4:30 … or 16:30 to you, Frenchie,” smiling at the tall woman.

“Oui, 16:30, Cosima. We have arrived in Barcelona at a time when nothing is open. Cafes and bistros won’t open until later, and the bars much later. But the basilica is open, and maybe some places serving tourists. We can see guitar and drink some,” she coughed loudly, suggestively, “Spanish wine, later, since you insist - French is always better, mon ami - I am starting to question your taste.”

“When in Catalonia … right!? Maybe you can expose me to some expensive French vintage some other time.” It slipped out before she realized, wondering if there would ever be another time.

The blonde just nodded and smiled, heading toward the stairs.  
\-------  
They walked down a busy avenue toward La Sagrada Familia. It wasn’t the most pleasant walk, ringed by traffic, a reminder that they were in a large, urban city. But off in the distance, Cosima could see another expanse of green, and they were walking toward it.

“What is that, another park?”

“Yes, that is Parc de les Aigües, the Water Park, I believe. It isn’t much of a park, but has some interesting, rare trees, or at least trees that don’t really belong here.”

“How do you know so much about Barcelona? Didn’t you grow up in Paris?”

“Non, well, I grew up in Lille mostly, north of Paris near the border with Belgium. Many people call it an industrial town, but it has a beautiful downtown square, the old town is filled with cobblestone streets, fromageries, magasins de vin – ah, cheese and wine shops, sorry – just as an American would expect. But also old family bakeries, cloth shops, and cafes. It is really lovely, actually. I moved to Paris for University nearly ten years ago. But I know Barcelona because my uncle and cousins live in the area, that’s why my grand-mere moved here. My cousin Thomas lives here in Barcelona, actually. Maybe we can meet up with him tonight. He tends bar in Barri Gotic, but he is sometimes hard to find.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I ended up with, like, the perfect guide. I want Spanish wine, you know a Spanish bartender. Why’s he hard to find? A bit wild?”

“French-Spanish,” she corrected. “Non, he is actually a very sweet guy, but his boyfriend owns a restaurant in the area too that is very popular, they just have a lot going on all the time, Thomas is never quite sure when he will be around. I used to spend a lot of my breaks from school with Thomas and his family, he is like a little brother to me. Now that I think about it, we need to find him tonight. You two should meet. He’s also very cheeky.”

Cosima was continually surprised by the revelations from this woman, at least this latest information indicated she was open-minded, maybe more. She was confused, but unsure how to broach the subject.

They walked in companionable silence down the wide avenue, the spires of La Sagrada Familia just barely visible. Cosima was so excited about seeing this basilica – still under construction since ground broke in 1882 – loaded with geometric, mathematic imagery in addition to the unique architectural construct.

“You are so … bouncy. You look like a little kid at a fête.”

“Yeah, this place has been on my list for a while,” she said simply, smiling at the blonde.

As they neared the entrance at the Nativity façade, they noted the rather dramatic crowd of tourists still milling all around the unfinished structure. 

“I believe we have found the tourists,” she said, emphasizing the last few syllables. 

“I think that includes me too. I’m gonna be dorking out on you in here if that’s okay?” She turned her back on the blonde to look up.

Delphine nodded and chuckled lightly. “I believe there are 18 spires. For the apostles, the evangelists, Mary, and then the tallest, of course, for Christ,” Delphine said matter-of-factly from behind Cosima, who looked up at the spires, squinting against the afternoon light.

“How do you do that …” Cosima said as she spun around to look at the blonde, laughing hard when she saw a smirk on her face as she held up a pamphlet guide, in French. “You! You got me. What else does that thing say? Don’t they have one in English?”

“Non, mon ami," as she snatched the pamphlet just out of the smaller woman's reach, " _I_ am your tour guide.”

“Ohh, I see, you’re in control. Mmmkay,” hands up in mock surrender.

The Christian iconography was the strongest at this facade, depicting the birth of Christ, highlighting the apostles in pastoral, naturalist scenes, intricate details and flourishes of leaves and trees carved into the stone. The symbols for Alpha and Omega were carved at the arched entrance. They walked around, taking in the odd curve of the buttresses, the traditional archways.

“Cosima, do you believe …” she trailed off, waved vaguely at the façade. 

“Well, I’m not really into labels, but I think I’d have to say, no, not really, not in the specifics of the story, definitely not the dogma.” Unsure of her companion’s beliefs, she was careful, “But I can see how it would be comforting. I wanted to come here because of how purposeful and exacting the design is, this weird architectural ... dichotomy ... and of course there are all these call-outs to geometry. It's like a mind trip. Do ... you?”

“Non, I went to Catholic school, but I have always put more faith in things I can touch, feel, observe. Faith in the unseen has not been kind to me. We are both scientists, no? Evidence-based theory, that’s what I believe.”

Cosima’s look turned briefly to concern, taking in the taller woman’s words, but she wanted to keep things light, not press. “Of course, yeah, show don’t tell, right? I think I would describe myself as a spiritual Humanist, you know. I think there’s too much out there, and in here,” she lightly placed her hand at the top of the other woman’s chest, “that we still don’t understand to rely on science alone to explain everything, or at least science as it stands now. I make decisions based on logic - most of the time - but I make room for belief in things we don’t yet understand.” She smiled up at the blonde who reached up to cover the small woman’s hand with her own.

“Oui, a Humanist, I think that would describe me as well,” She gave Cosima’s hand a light squeeze and moved away. “This building is an example of the humanist principle, is it not? Collective human agency to build something magnificent, a feat of engineering for an expression of art, an ideal.”

“Delphine, you are a little bit of a poet, aren’t you,” she said in a teasing tone. 

She groaned a little, a small smile on her face, shaking her head at the brunette. Cosima moved forward, closing the space between them as Delphine leaned into the stone at her back, looking down into Cosima’s eyes. Then Cosima realized where they were, what she knew and didn’t know, and pulled back with a slightly frantic look. 

“Ugh, let’s, let’s go inside. I want to see these famous pillars.”

Exhaling light and long, Delphine said, “Oui, Cosima, the interior is stunning.”

They walked into the stone structure, which was lit up with the most extraordinary rainbow of colors, yellows, oranges streaming in from the west façade, a smattering of blues, greens, soft white speckling the marble floor, the stone archways and buttresses coming in from all other angles. 

Cosima let out a loud gasp, slowly spinning around, looking up. She shook her head in wonder, dreads swaying with her. When she came to a stop, her head was still tilted back, looking at the ceiling, eyes darting this way and that. 

Delphine didn’t look about the cavernous room, she was instead focused intently on the compact form of her new friend, her whole body lit by a rainbow of color, her dreads purple and green and blue, and the features of her face alight with joy.

Cosima dropped her head, now looking about the space, the intricate pillars all radiating out from the center of the room in slight variations of size and color of pale marble. She was mumbling, almost whispering to herself, “Ah, I totally see it now, these pillars, they are trees, he’s created a pillar forest, arching out at the top to create a stone canopy. Damn, it’s so much better in person.” She walked a little away from Delphine, lost in her exploration. She ran her hand up and down a column, noting its changing form. “Wow. These columns, they spring from a star-shaped base, then flare out into these sixteen-sided forms, and then collapse back down into a cylinder.” She shook her head just slightly as she ran her finger down the center, leaning down, bringing her eyes closer. “I think these are different kinds of stone too, no doubt some symbolism in that.” 

She sighed, then turned in a slow full circle, looking for the blonde, wondering if she’d been talking to herself. She saw Delphine then, walking toward her with a soft smile on her beautiful face, lit orange as if by a dying sunset. Cosima grinned back, tongue pressing fully against her teeth. “Heyyy, I was looking for you. I think I’ve been talking to myself … this is so wonderful. It’s like we’re lost in a magical stone forest, look,” She pointed up to the canopy.

Cosima looked back at the blonde who had become quiet, seeing an expression she couldn’t place, Delphine looked distracted, her mind somewhere else. She looped her arm through Delphine’s, wanting the contact, friendly, nothing more. “Hey,” cocking her head to the side, “where’d you go? Everything okay?”

“Cosima, do you think perfect moments exist?” The blonde’s voice was low, a little rough.

“Well, I guess, what do you mean by perfect? Like the clouds part, angels sing, a symphony of strings?” Waving her hands at the sky, eyes quirking up.

“Ohh,” she lightly groaned, not sure if the small woman was poking fun at her. “Well, like, when something is just what you need, whether you knew you needed it or not. Or, when one single moment has others curled up inside it, like its timeless? Do I sound … nonsensical? My English is failing me.”

“No you don’t at all. I think time is a fallible, flimsy thing, a human construction … some moments are heavier than others, you know, and have ripple effects throughout our lives.” Cosima hands were spinning, playing out a thought experiment in her mind, drawing conclusions, completely missing the look the blonde was giving her, the longing there clearly evident, darkening her features. “If I follow you, I guess I would say a perfect moment would be one that you can recall with perfect clarity, if not the details, how it made you feel. Yes, I think I believe in perfect moments.” A quick nod, as if making up her mind. Then she looked at the blonde, curious. 

“Cosima, you, spinning in this room, the light dancing around you,” she closed her eyes, exhaled “this is a perfect moment.”

Cosima’s mouth dropped open, her eyes wide, shock and desire pulsed through her. Forgetting the crowd, the unknowns, she moved in again to close the distance between them, this time without hesitating. She leaned up on her toes, placing the flat of her palm on the blonde’s neck, who leaned into her instinctively. Cosima pulled her down for a light kiss, all soft lips, not tentative, but not pressing.

She pulled away, Delphine’s lovely hazel eyes looking down at her, but also up through long lashes, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

“Oh, Delphine, um, I …” Cosima shook her head and quietly freaked out, hoping she hadn’t misread those signs. But she couldn’t have, they were too loud to ignore. Her whole body thrummed, wanting to kiss the beautiful woman in front of her again, who looked so vulnerable.

Delphine just smiled, laughed nervously, and lifted her hand to Cosima’s cheek. Her thumb lightly caressed her cheek, her lips. “I was wrong. _Now_ it is a perfect moment.”

They stood underneath the stone canopy, a riot of changing color coming in through the stained glass, Delphine with a serious, contented expression, Cosima grinning lightly, until she reached up for Delphine's hand, pressing it into her cheek for a moment. Interlacing their fingers, she kissed the blonde’s palm, and then pulled their hands down together, raising her eyebrows, a question for permission. Delphine lightly squeezed, and they walked hand-in hand toward the exit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are truffles.

They walked out to the courtyard on the other side of the basilica, the light blinded them both, accustomed as they’d become to the dim, softly lit kaleidoscope interior. 

Looking back to take in the façade, Delphine was the first to speak, fingers still entwined in Cosima. “You see, this side is very different, austere, sharp. It has so many influences, like the park, oui, this side is almost cubist.”

“Yeah, totally, all hard edges and dark. There aren’t really even facial features on the other figures, only Christ. I guess it is appropriate. Using the stone work, the style, to convey the subject, the crucifixion. It’s a little grim for me though.”

Pulling Delphine to the other side of the sculpture at the entrance, she pointed at a large square, broken into 16 smaller squares, 4x4, with numbers carved within. “Ohhh cool, this is a magic square,” she said, silently counting the numbers across and down, “Any way you add, it always comes to 33. The age of Christ at the crucifixion, I think? Hmm.”

“Many little details all throughout, no? Do you want to continue to look around? I think there is a visitor’s center below," she said looking down at the pamphlet, "it explains a lot of the history, and there is a small chapel out back,” she said pointing.

All Cosima could think was that nowhere in this madhouse would give them enough privacy to talk, to explore the growing connection between them. 

“Um, I,” as she fumbled for words, her free hand took over, waving circles of indecision, nerves. “Maybe, is there somewhere we could go that’s more quiet, talk? I love it here, but the crowd is getting to me a bit.” _A total lie_ , Cosima thought, _I just want to look at you without any distractions_.

Delphine lit up with a smile, “Oui, there is a small square, not far from here, right by a little church. There are some benches there. And there are usually some street performers. Maybe I can get you your guitar performance before dinner.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They set out from La Sagrada Familia, Delphine leading the way, Cosima with no clue as to their location in the city, their orientation to sea, the train, the airport, she was just following, contentedly.

“This is the way I should have been seeing Europe from the start,” Cosima said brightly.

“What is that? What do you mean?”

“Oh, like, with a local friend as guide, showing me all the cool spots … lilting out historical details in French,” she squeezed the blonde’s hand, still lightly entwined in hers as they walked through the city.

“Lilting?” Delphine asked, lips curving up in a smile.

“Yes, you totally lilt. It’s adorable …. Where are we going anyway?”

“I thought we would head more into Barri Gotic, the Old Town. My favorite restaurant is there, though it will not open for some time, but also many beautiful old squares and churches. There are also … uh … there is a word in English I can’t remember … where young artists live, their rent is a bit less?”

“A collective,” Cosima raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, I think that is it. An art collective, but also the area is just tolerant of artists. It is energique,” she said, twirling her hand in the air.

As they walked through the streets, Cosima noticed the small avenues and shops - similar to many of the European cities she’d visited the past month - give way to centuries-old stone, water-stained and dark, passages narrowing, a closed-in, damp feel even in the heat of the afternoon.

They passed boutiques and food stalls, bakeries and futbol shops, all nestled in plazas and squares, churches often the focal point. It was clear this area was both lived-in and a draw for tourists. They walked leisurely for some time, the tall woman seemingly guiding them to a specific destination. Cosima was surprised when Delphine drew quickly to a stop, a smile on her face as she breathed in deeply.

“What? I miss something?” Cosima mused, looking around.

“This ... this place has the best truffles.” They were stopped just outside the Jaume metro stop,

Cosima testing out the name in her head - How-mey? Jeax-mey? Joe-may? – How had she not noticed the pastry shop or the official Barca futbol shop across the way. Now aware, she saw a line around the corner for tickets, presumably, though the first game wasn’t for a few weeks. She looked at the shop the blonde was staring at now, noticed the name emblazoned in gold in the window: Patisserie la Colmena.

“Oh yeah, truffles, huh?" She lightly pinched the woman's hip. "You wanna get some now? I could try some of your favorites?” Something about this beautiful, elegant blonde loving truffles completely tickled her.

“Non,” though the look on her face belied the certainty in her voice. “It is still hot out now, and they may not last. But, best truffles outside of France,” she said as she pointed.

“Let’s stop in! We can eat them now! Before they melt. I want to know what all the fuss is about.”

She was thoroughly amused at how the other woman seemed to be equivocating.

“The … fuss?” she said as she lightly shook her head.

“Oh, um, like, I want to know what is so good about these truffles that you stopped, dead in the street, and sort of had a fit,” she pinched the blonde’s hip again, grinning.

“Oui, it is worth … the fuss.”

As they walked in, the sweet, cloying smell of chocolate and burnt brown sugar met them, overwhelming the brunette in the small space.

“I defer to you here, Frenchie, whatever you think we should try. But I would like one or two of these,” Cosima pointed at milk chocolate peanut clusters.

“Oui,” Delphine said, clearly unamused, eyes nearly rolling. She quickly pointed out several truffles to the clerk, knowing exactly what she wanted. Cosima was particularly taken with the white chocolate heart, seemingly filled with raspberry ganache. Delphine ordered four.

“I thought you said these might melt,” Cosima said gesturing to the large packet of truffles.

“I can’t help myself. I start ordering, and I just want to taste all of them at once. It is a vice. But they are delicious … and as you say, when in Barcelona …”

They kept walking, crossing two or three large avenues until they came to an area with several small alleys jutting off from the main avenue, Via Laietana. The old stones down each alleyway were colored with graffiti of all shades and styles, mostly in Spanish, Cosima couldn’t make out their meaning. But the juxtaposition was startling, and beautiful, clearly some of the work had been commissioned, or was welcomed, gracing the walls every ten yards or so as far as she could see.

“We are here. Plaça dels Traginers.” The alleyway opened to the right into a large square between two long apartment buildings, a painter, a lone violinist, and what seemed to be a palm reader posted up in the shade of the trees along one of the buildings.

“Oh, this is so cool. It reminds me of some small streets in San Fran, though much flatter, older.”

“Oui, no guitar, but, we can listen to some strings at least.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of Cosima's backstory, and more fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this installment brings us back up to speed before the great deletion.

They nestled into the tiered stairs of an apartment building, no actual benches nearby, and opened Delphine’s box of chocolates.

As they sat talking, people watching, Delphine couldn’t help but notice the brunette’s easy laugh, her warmth, leaning against her every now and then when she made some cheeky remark about a passer-by. 

Delphine pointed out a few of her favorite truffles, Cosima tried them in turn, savoring them as she quirked an eyebrow in surprise (white chocolate raspberry was a go, Cosima pronounced) or puckered her lips in distaste (ice-wine ganache, a fail, Cosima shaking her head). Somewhere during this truffle tasting, Cosima’s free hand drifted between them to Delphine’s, fingertips tracing an open palm, and lightly entwining their fingers. 

Delphine was having one of the most carefree days in memory. Cosima was kind, thoughtful, cheeky, her sharp wit cutting at times, but she never meant to wound, apologizing immediately for even the slightest, perceived injury.

Delphine’s curiosity about this singular woman was only growing. 

“So, you have tried to, what’s the word – skirt – my questions about you, Cosima. Where are you from? What is it you do, exactly?”

“Oh,” Cosima blushed slightly, “um, I didn’t mean to ‘skirt’,” hand up, “honest,” a grin on her face. “I just finished my master’s thesis on epigenetic influence on autoimmune disorders, triggering events, environmental factors. We mapped epigenetic profiles of genetically identical twins. And I am, slowly, really slowly on my way to a PhD in EvoDevo … um, I mean, evolutionary development. I just finished at Berkeley, and transferred to the University of Minnesota, also known as a very cold place in America...” She trailed off.

“Hmmm, a _very_ scientific American” Delphine said with warmth, “That is fascinating work, and how lucky … and improbable maybe … that we sat next to each other on the train. I don’t think I have ever met anyone outside of University that would know what epigenetic influence even means.” She was quiet for a brief moment. 

“Yeah, it’s really cool science. Reaffirming to know that genetics isn’t destiny, that even after Watson and Crick, there’s more to discover, to understand about how we become who we are … unsettling too though that these dastardly little bastard diseases can be triggered by the slightest little nudge. Anyway.” 

“Oui, we are always … what is the saying … dancing on a razor’s edge. Whether we perceive it or not.” Delphine was measuring her companion, her expression had been far too pensive, very much unlike her gleeful expression when talking about her field on the train. “But I believe there is something else you are not saying, maybe, what are you doing in Europe?”

“Huh, wow, um, yeah. How did you sense that? Well, I am trying to figure some things out too. I love trying to answer questions the universe and our own lives throw at us. I thought biology, genetics, the nature-nurture debate, that intersection, was the answer. And maybe it is. But I found that other types of expression speak to me too … I just don’t know if being in a lab is going to answer the questions I want answered. Am I making any sense at all?

Lightly, softly, Delphine said, “Oui, mon ami, yes you are.”

“I mean, is the study of points on a curve going to explain to me why seahorses and ammonites, human fingers and humanity’s greatest monuments conform to the same equation? How sometimes sadness can creep in to the happiest moments? Or the opposite? How the quality of light seems to change when you’re looking at someone you love? How sound seems to defy space and time when you just need to hear that particular song? I want to answer these questions. And if I can’t answer them myself, I want to capture the moment when others do.”

The blonde looked at her then, confused, but taken in by the passionate, earnest expression on the brunette’s face, the flash of her tattoo as her hands waved wildly. “Mmm, I don’t think I understand?”

“I mean, don’t you feel there are times when what you know empirically about the world falls woefully short of what you are seeing, what you are hearing, what you are living?” 

“You mean, making room for the things science cannot explain?” Delphine asked, recalling their conversation just an hour before.

“Well, yes. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop trying to quantify those moments, and instead capture them, or maybe just, live them?” Cosima’s hands fell out into a questioning expression, hands down by her knees as she sat. 

Cosima moved then to open the large messenger bag she had brought with her, laden, now the blonde could see, with a camera body and lenses. “I’ve taken this little … sabbatical … to be an atrociously obvious American tourist and photograph some of Europe’s great cities. Try to see if this is,” waving to the gear, “is more than a hobby.” Her lips turned down a bit as she closed the flap on her bag.

“I probably would have been trying to photograph every nook and cranny of La Sagrada Familia if I hadn’t been distracted by such an enchanting guide …”

Delphine grinned, nibbled at her lip. “How have you found the Continent, Cosima? Have you … captured it?” Delphine said, with a broad sweep of her hand. 

“I haven’t been too impressed with myself, to be honest. This trip was abrupt really, was sort of spurred on by this dramatic break-up … and …” she stopped, pulling back from the personal. “Anyway, I think my best work is more, journalistic, capturing moments, telling stories, not the architecture, landscapes, or even urban environments I’ve been shooting. It all feels a bit sterile.”

“But I’m sure they are beautiful. I imagine you have an artistic eye, and an artist’s tendency to self-critique.”

“Thank you. I don’t think this is self-deprecation here. I think I have a very specific interest in photography – and a very limited scope of talent. Last summer, before I moved to Minnesota, I got involved with some people in San Francisco. They provide safe housing for homeless LGBT youth in the Castro … Something you said before about your grandmother – that pushing past fear and ignorance is a transgressive act. That’s exactly what that was, is.” She knew she was rambling, veering into the personal, she couldn’t help herself, was convinced that the blonde might provide some insight. 

“They are doing really powerful work, making people feel safe, and I just helped out with some photo promotion stuff, you know. But then I met some people who wanted to tell their story, and we had this small collaboration, and it became a profile of what life was like in that time of their lives, in that place. It just set me on to another way of thinking about how I could contribute. I really like the work of James Nachtwey. He’s actually done some stuff for MSF I think.”  


Delphine was startled by the revelation, she wasn’t sure why, something about the woman had already suggested an artistic side, a passion, but she had come to think of her as a fellow scientist. 

“Actually, I do know him, or at least his profiles on TB and HIV. It is very shocking, yes, his work, but powerful. I can’t imagine what it must be like to witness and capture those moments, I think I would feel helpless, unable to act, only document. I could not do it.”

“Mmm, yeah, I can understand that. Especially because someone like you would have the tools needed to act in some meaningful way. But telling such a story can … I dunno … like, put a mirror up to the world, take stock of what is happening, what we are doing to each other.”

“But, you know, I didn’t really prepare for this trip, think through what I was trying to accomplish, I just needed to get away. I stayed with my sister, Sarah, for a few weeks in London, but then thought I’d do this solo journey thing, take advantage of a Eurail pass, try to see if I could enjoy doing something different than being the geek monkey.”

“Geek … monkey?” Delphine’s eyebrow quirked.

“Yeah, my brother and sister used to joke that I was the geek monkey. They were always sneaking out, wild. I was just always into science. They used to give me the hardest time for being at the top of the class. Good thing I know they love me, or I would’ve been pretty bitter about their shenanigans … anyway, geek monkey. Bastards’ nickname for me.”

“That is, adorable, I think. Geek monkey,” she said slowly, familiarizing herself with the sound. “You do sort of move like a monkey, very animated.”

“Heyyyy, that is not okay. No, no, you can’t call me geek monkey,” she was chuckling, her eyes crinkling.

Delphine laughed too, promised nothing, filing the nickname away.

“So you just got out of a relationship,” Delphine ventured, abruptly, “dramatic, you said?”

“Oh, yeah, um, well, we had been dating through most of grad school, you know, she was in Gender & Women's Studies. We met in yoga. So cliche now that I think about it. Anyway, it didn’t work out, she wanted something different than I did I think, to settle into an extension of our life from school, and I just felt like there was … more … to experience.” 

_She_ , Delphine thought, of course she knew, or thought she did, by now, but this confirmed what she felt, underscored that she wasn’t as sure about this connection between them as Cosima. 

“I wanted her to come with me, to Minnesota, I had finally convinced her to move there a few months early, get to know the place before I started school again.”

The blonde felt an oddly curious feeling of retroactive jealousy, wanting to know who this girl was.

Cosima was gesturing with her hand now, “We had this huge fight, and it ended in this sort of … yeah …” she struck her hand out abruptly, “dramatic …” she trailed off, still obviously affected. “I think probably we weren’t the best for each other. But then I found myself in this new situation, alone.”

Delphine’s expressive face showed a mix of emotions, some Cosima couldn’t place, but the blonde nodded, urging her to go on.

“Soooo, downtime with the sister, hitting the rails to find meaning and friendship in Europe, lame, but not lame. Though all I really got was a lot of musty rooms and lots of time for navel gazing.”

It sounded crude, “Navel gazing?” Delphine was immediately nervous, wondering if this was some term for bedding her way through Europe, but she was also sure that didn’t fit the brunette. She couldn’t keep the stricken look from her face.

“Oh, oh, it means, um introspection, thinking about who you are, your place in the world. Sort of obnoxious, overly-anxious high-school shit. Yeah. Super attractive, right?”

She let out a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding. “Hmm, that sounds like my past few weeks. Navel gazing. We are lucky we can do that, non?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “yeah, you’re right. Hard to feel lucky when you feel sort of adrift, though, you know.”

“C’est vrai,” the blonde said softly, almost a whisper, squeezing the woman’s fingers between hers.

“But, Delphine, this whole conversation brings something up. Maybe it doesn’t matter. I’m, you know, I’m leaving tomorrow, but, like, are you okay with this,” she gestured between them. “It feels sort of natural, but I also sense that you’re a little … nervous maybe? I just don’t want to … like push or make you uncomfortable or anything.” And that was true, she didn’t, but she also wanted something more than reassurance from the blonde, she wasn’t sure what.

“Oh, like... I have never thought about bisexuality. I mean, for myself, you know? But I also know that sexuality, is a... is a spectrum.” Delphine was stopping and starting, her hands falling out to her sides in a gesture of emphasis or question, Cosima couldn’t tell. “But social biases they, they codify attraction. It's contrary to the biological facts... you know.” 

“That’s … oddly, romantic,” Cosima said. 

“I just know that I have never met anyone like you. Today is … un coup de foudre … I don’t know a way to say it in English. Like a thunderbolt.” Delphine’s eyes drifted to Cosima’s lips, biting hard at her own.

Cosima leaned in this time, pushing Delphine against the edge of the stone doorway, pulling her hand away from Delphine’s, and bringing both hands to the other woman’s hips, squeezing lightly, pulling their bodies into closer contact, fingers threading against her lower back, tongue tracing the blonde’s for entrance. Delphine’s hands slowly moved up Cosima’s arms, until she reached her dreads, looping her hands in between them and pulling Cosima closer to her. They were partially hidden by the doorway, by the trees hanging around them, but they were still exposed, still in the open. 

After a long moment, Cosima pulled back.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I really couldn’t stop.”

“I really didn’t want you to,” she said simple, matter of fact. "Stop apologizing."

\-------

“Buenas noches, mis amigas.” The women heard the entreating voice of the young Spaniard before they saw him, eyes focused as they were on the other woman. Both startled, wondering his motive.

“Oh, buenes noches,” Cosima said, a bit cautious, trying to remember what neighborhood they were in, if this area of the city was friendly.

“Habla espanol? O’ Ingles?”

“Ingles, por favor, amigo,” she answered, looking at Delphine, “High school Spanish, terrible, actually,” she said lightly as she positioned her body more fully in front of Delphine’s, between her and the stranger.

“I have noticed you for some time. How long have you been together?”

The women exchanged a surprised look, Cosima overcompensating, “Ohhh, no, no, we’re … just … um,” looking to Delphine.

“Oui, ah, yes, a while now, why?” Cosima looked up startled and amused, almost immediately at ease, Delphine wasn’t scared.

“I was wondering,” he gestured to an easel, “we are losing the light, but I hoped I could paint you? You have the … uh … such an easy way. I think I can paint you well. If you would come to this tree? The light is hitting it just so.”

Cosima quirked a brow, letting out a low sigh, she looked at Delphine smiling, “Why not?”

They sat beneath the tree, arms slung low around each other, momentarily looking at Rafael, they learned, and then back at each other. Every now and then they dipped their heads together until they touched. And that is how Rafael painted them, penciling in the outline and dripping blues and light pinks and purples around their silhouettes. Their heads were touching at the temples as they looked out toward him, but also down at their hands, entwined still, Cosima’s cateye glasses prominent, her many bangles visible, Delphine’s curls etched in pencil-perfect motion.


	7. Chapter 7

As the sun set, it became clear that the intellectual connection, the emotional resonance between them was growing into something more primal, and the glances they stole at each other became darker, more obvious. Instead of lightly, playfully entwining their fingers, they stood side-by-side almost in an embrace, each with her arm slung lowly across the other’s hips. 

They looked down at the portrait of them, both smiling, shaking their heads just slightly. If there were a title to this watercolor, Delphine thought, simply, it would be ‘happiness’, a much-too fleeting thing. Cosima was trying to wrap her mind’s tongue around the words _“coupe de foudre”_ , because she had felt it too.

All too abruptly, Delphine’s voice cut through their little reverie. “Cosima, I believe the last train departs toward Paris in an hour,” it was a statement, but her tone was a question, turning hear head to look at the compact woman next to her. “I should head back to Jaume 1 and take the metro.” She was usually more direct than this, not layering questions under some thinly veiled ruse, but she wanted to know what the brunette was thinking, was unsure how to ask.

“Ohhhh. Um, can’t you stay?” Her tone and her eyes were pleading, but she was smiling at Delphine all the same. “I didn’t book anywhere yet, but I know we could find a hostel or hotel around here. Like, just a place to crash, you know? Get you on the first train out tomorrow?” It was her voice lilting up in question now. “There’s so much to explore. Plus, I still haven’t had any Spanish wine tonight or heard any Spanish guitar …”

Delphine was sure her face betrayed how immediately her uncertainty dissolved at Cosima’s words, urging her to stay, she wasn’t as shy anymore at letting it show.

“Well, I did promise,” she said, tone teasing. “Let me … let me call Thomas, see where he is, maybe we can meet up with him,” unspoken, she thought, _see if we can crash at his empty loft_ … She pulled away from Cosima, who watched as she walked back down the square, her phone at her ear. The light was fading fast, the dark blues of twilight overcoming the orange-pink of sunset, suffusing the entire square with a haze, giving the impression that this was all only a dream.

As she rejoined the brunette, she said, “Okay, we are all set for dinner, my favorite restaurant, which also happens to be Adrian’s place, Thomas’ partner. He is going to try to come by later. We are still early for dinner. But Thomas recommends a place for you, for drinks. Should we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely, like totally,” hands thrown up in exclamation, grinning. “I’m so glad you’re staying. I was just trying to work out in my head if I could make it to Paris tonight and back before my flight tomorrow." She paused, a bemused expression crossing her features. "Wait, he recommended a place for _me_? What did you say to him?” She was curious, delighted.

“Non, nothing … bad. I just described you, and asked for a recommendation. I think you will … what is the expression … get a punch … out of it. It is not far.”

“A punch? You mean a kick? I’m excited to test your theory.” 

It really _wasn’t_ far, just a few blocks from the square, but they took their time getting there, Cosima still struck by the contrast of old cream stone covered with beautiful street art. Both women were lost in the evening, the improbable nature of their meeting, thoughts of tomorrow pushed aside for now.

Delphine brought them down a brightly lit alley, arches at either end, then came to a stop in front of a store front, fingers spreading out to present their destination.

Her eyebrows darted up, exaggerated, “a shiiiisha lounge!? You are kidding me right now.”

““Well, they are open early, they have wine, and, um, I think cannabis may be a bit too much crime for me right now, but we can do hookah?”

“Yes, please. Omigod, this is perfect Delphine. Remind me to thank Thomas …”

She looked around the space as they went in, again all aged, cream stone, a long bar sparsely populated downstairs, with an arrow pointing to the upstairs lounge for hookah. Upstairs, papasan chairs dotted the interior, low tables between most.

“God, this is turning out to be the best night I’ve had in years and years. I think Barcelona might be my favorite city.”

“Mmmm, ma cherie, you haven’t seen Paris with me.” Delphine said, tone all of a sudden sultry, but teasing, as she leaned in to playfully trace the other girl’s jaw.

“Is that a … challenge?”

“Maybe.”

As they nestled into the plush chairs, the waiter came by with a drink menu, and Delphine quickly sized up the list, asked red or white, “Oh red, red, of course,” Delphine picked a bottle immediately, gesturing to the waiter.

“So, your cousin lives here, but you don’t speak Spanish?”

“Don’t you live in a state in America where at least 25% of the population speaks Spanish, and you do not?”

“Oh, hoh hoh, sharp edges there Frenchie. But you’re totally right,” chuckling, recognizing the blonde’s barb as playful.

“Well, they didn’t move here until I was at University, I only visited a bit, and then, well, I didn’t need to know too much Spanish. I can understand a lot, but I cannot speak it.” Pinching the other woman’s forearm, “How many languages do you speak, mmm?”

“Oh, well, just English and German, actually, and like really awful Spanish. I already admitted to being an idiot American.”

“C’est vrai,” Delphine laughed.

The wine came – aged Tempranillo – along with a shisha menu. 

“I picked the wine, but I believe picking the flavor is for you, Cosima?”

“Mmmmm, yes, let’s see.” She was slightly bouncing again as she reviewed the options. “Well, hm, “special mix” is always intriguing, but I think we should start with something basic, lemon mint or watermelon?”

“Oooooh, watermelon, oui?” The blonde answered. “It will complement the wine.”

“Oui.” Cosima said, that grin was back, tongue flashing behind teeth. Delphine adored her trying to speak French and made a mental note to thank her cousin.

As the wine was delivered, a contented sigh escaped Cosima’s lips as she sipped and smiled at the blonde next to her. The hookah arrived shortly after, charcoals placed delicately over the foil, they both eased back into the plush chairs. It had already been a long, hot day, this the perfect way to relax, unfurl.

They sat for a while, trading the pipe back and forth, commenting on the other guests, sparse still so early in the evening. Then the dreadlocked woman got a curious, mischievous look on her face, floating several smoke rings toward the blonde, eyebrow quirked up. 

“You are such a brat,” Delphine laughed. “You are reminding me of that … uh, chenille … I don’t know the word in English … in Alice in Wonderland that always has a dopey smile and blows smoke rings.”

“Ohmigod, um, a caterpillar? Yeah, thanks. Geek monkey then baked caterpillar. I must be making quite the impression.” She quirked a brow at Delphine, a cocky smirk on her lips. “How is this affecting my attempts to woo you?”

“Woo me? You are wooing me?” The way the words trilled off Delphine’s tongue in her accent sent a thrill through Cosima. “I thought I was the one wooing you - truffles, and watercolors, and finding you wine.” Delphine could feel herself warmed by the wine and the smoke, losing her inhibitions by the hour.

“Yeah, totally, that sounds about right, and now hookah, you’re definitely getting an A+.” They shared a conspiratorial smile, picked up the pipe again. 

Cosima watched Delphine’s lips pucker a bit as she let out a long, slow exhale of smoke, looking at the brunette side-eyed, aware of being watched. 

They went on like that for a while, flirting and joking. Cosima remarked on the beauty of the Old Town, her surprise at the graffiti, Delphine talked of nothing in particular, museums she had visited in the area, cathedrals to visit, things Cosima should see if she should return.

Something Cosima said turned Delphine’s gaze again, an unanswered question coming to her mind.

“You never did say, Cosima, how did you get involved with this group … the one that got you involved in photography?”

Cosima looked at her sideways, measuring her, unsure if she should reveal anything more. “Um, well, it’s really not a pleasant story.” The mirth that had been so clearly evident in her eyes, the upturned quirk of her lips, turned to concern, then to fear.

Delphine reached across, placed her hand on Cosima’s, “You do not have to say, if you don’t want. But I would like to know anything you would share.”

“Well,” she began with a sigh, hoping the evidence of baggage from her past didn’t undermine the blissful fun of the evening. “I mentioned Felix and Sarah before, yeah? Well, they are my brother and sister, for sure, in every way that matters, but we’re not related. I was taken in by their family after my parents died … right before I started high school,” she slightly trembled at the memory, but moved on quickly. “Before I got placed with them though I had a couple bad foster situations, and just ended up sorta on the streets.” Waving her hand as if dismissing it, “just really briefly, you know.” Looking up from her tentative, cautious rambling she checked Delphine’s expression, seeing an earnest gaze, full of care and encouragement, but not pity. “Anyway, that’s what drew me to that group I worked with. I wanted other kids to know there’s a safe place to go.” 

Delphine could tell there was much more to this story, but the brunette clearly didn’t want to linger on the topic, seemed to be begging her with her gaze to move on.

“I’m sorry, ma cherie. I’m glad you found family that loves you.” She stretched the fingers of her hand, still resting on Cosima’s, and softly entwining their fingers, then bringing them to her lips, placing a firm kiss to Cosima’s palm, “you have such a kind heart, Cosima.” 

“Well, anyway, that wasn’t really the point of this trip, you know? I honestly have been feeling pretty down about this little photography experiment of mine, I haven’t really found any answers.” Her expression shifted, smiling brightly up at the blonde, “But then I met you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a little bit more about Delphine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is my first fic, so I welcome any and all comments and suggestions. Also, my French is worse than Cosima's, so let me know if it's nonsensical.

Delphine’s head swam from the wine and shisha and this strange wave of attraction and comfort she felt with her new friend. She was sure they both looked like fools to the other patrons, all smiles and light touches. After their people-watching and light mockery, making up stories and dramatic intrigue for their companions in the square, in the bar, she wondered what others made of them. Wondered if they could see that something rare was happening here. 

She didn’t think she was alone in this thought, she could feel the dreadlocked woman in the same reverie, but she didn’t really know her, did she? She wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from here. 

“Cosima, I think I might need something more substantial than ice cream and truffles with all this wine.”

“Are you asking me to dinner, Delphine.” Her tone playful, as per usual.

“Cosima, would you like to go to dinner with me?” She was equally as playful, lips puckering into a little pout as she finished her invitation. 

“Mmmm, yes, yes I would.”  
\-----

As they retraced their steps back toward the square, Cosima asked, “So, you’re taking me to your favorite restaurant in Barcelona, eh?” Had the blonde been leading them here all day? They had spent most of the evening near the restaurant, she realized, lingering in Barri Gotic.

“Well, it is actually wonderful, but I am under a sort of – obligation – to love it. It is like our family place now. Spanish tapas, great wine.”

As they entered the restaurant, a long narrow interior, warmly lit, Cosima knew she would love it. It was cozy, but with a sort of elegant presence. Not unlike the French woman next to her.

“Thomas!!!” Delphine’s expression lit up as she crossed the room toward the bar to a tall, lanky man with wavy light brown hair, just past his ears, his expression immediately breaking into a grin.

“Delly! Tu es venu!” They wrapped each other in a warm embrace, then leaning back, holding each other’s forearms as they looked at each other. “Il a été trop longtemps.”

“Oui. J'ai été occupé.” 

Thomas looked at her skeptically, “Et en évitant votre famille …”

Cosima looked on a bit bewildered, not understanding the words, but happy to be witnessing such a personal exchange.

“Thomas,” Delphine said switching to English, “this is Cosima, the friend I met on the train. She speaks terrible French, I’m afraid,” She laughed as she draped her arm around Cosima’s waist and pulled her forward. 

“Cosima, I am ... ah … curious about the woman that could convince my dear, serious cousin to leave the train without planning.”

“Thomas, so nice to meet you. Your restaurant is totally perfect, I love this place already.” She wasn’t sure if she should respond to the man’s inquiry with humor or explain why she asked Delphine to join her. She chose diversion.

“Well, it is Adrian’s, but thank you. I try to bring a French flair,” he said with a wave of his hand, “to the cuisine. We enjoy it here. Come, come,” he motioned to a table in the back. “I will get you drinks, I will tend the bar tonight, as you are here Delphine, and then can bring out some of our favorite plates? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, like, totally. I mean … Delly,” she grinned at them both, “is that okay with you?”

“Oui, geek monkey, that sounds lovely.” The blonde giggled and drew her lip between her teeth.

Cosima shot her a glance, mixed at once with reproach and complete adoration, laughing.

“Wow. Okay. Let’s get you two seated.” Thomas rolled his eyes. 

As they were seated, Thomas asked, “Ladies, wine or cocktails this evening,” formally, but with mirth in his tone.

“Well, Thomas, I love Spanish wine,” challenging Delphine to defend the French variety, “but Delphine says you’re an awesome bartender … so, I defer to you. What should I have while in Spain?”

“I enjoy this challenge. I will make something just for you. Delphine, I will bring the Bordeaux Malbec, Oui?”

“Oui, Thomas, Merci.”

He then turned his back to Cosima, at the table, focusing on Delphine, “Je sais que vous avez visité grand-mère. Je sais pourquoi. We should talk about this.”

Cosima couldn’t help but think he was clueing her in to some serious undertone in the familial conversation with his use of English, a warning, perhaps, or an invitation to help him out? She couldn’t tell, but she got a sense of welcome from him, and also a sense that she had missed something beyond the story the blonde had shared with her.

Delphine’s tone was light, but Cosima was pretty sure she was giving the man a talking-to, “Thomas, non. C'est bien de te voir. Mais je ne veux faire cela à nouveau. Cosima, I think we are in for a treat. Thomas and Adrian have worked out a spectacular menu.”

Thomas brought out a glass of red and a bright, yellow cocktail for Cosima. 

“Cosima, this is one of our grandmother’s favorite drinks, second only to Champagne, Aqua de Valencia.” Delphine sighed, clearly even the choice of cocktail meant something. 

As he brought out plate after plate, he explained the inspiration for the dishes, very briefly, leaving the women to their conversation, and busying himself at the bar. The banter between the two slowed as they enjoyed the variety of tapas coming their way, conversation focused on the meal, and the genius of the artist-chefs running the place - pan con tomate, goat cheese and quince raviolis, and hangar steak with smoked mushrooms. 

Cosima was making contended sounds as she sipped her drink, back to Spanish wine at Thomas’ suggestion. 

\----

“Do you mind if I join you for a bit,” Thomas asked.

Cosima looked at Delphine, slightly shrugging her shoulders and smiling, Delphine obligingly scooted over to allow Thomas a seat at the table.

“So, Cosima, what did you say to Delphine to get her off the train? She hasn’t come to see me in ages.”

“Well, you know, we talked about alternate universes and the wisdom of lapses in judgment.” She shot a brief glance at Delphine, smiling, tongue slightly peeking out behind eye teeth.

“Cosima is a scientist, Thomas, studying biology. But she is also a photographer.”

“Ohhh, well that explains it. Delly gets hard-up on the smart ones. But also an artist, how interesting.” 

Delphine sighed and pushed his shoulder, “Cosima, Thomas is an artist too. I think I mentioned the collective. His stuff is garish if you ask me, but they call it _art_ ” she chuckled, clearly trying to get a rise out of Thomas, and gesturing for him to fill the brunette in.

“Garish! She loves it, actually. It’s street art, political.”

“In other words, he lives off of Adrian.” 

Cosima could tell the playfulness had sharp edges, maybe too sharp, and she longed to both learn what was behind it and soften it.

“I have been adoring this street art all day. It’s so jarring and oddly beautiful against the old stone. I can’t really make out the meaning of most of it, but I find it incredibly … atmospheric. Do you live at the collective here?”

“Thank you Cosima. I am happy to see someone appreciates art,” he waves his dramatically toward the ceiling, "this one certainly lacks imagination," hooking his thumb toward Delphine. “I do have a loft there, but mostly I stay at Adrian’s.”

He briefly turned to Delphine, “Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici? Vous agissez comme un petite chiot. Dois-je vous laisser ma clé?”

“Thomas!” Then a moment later, “Um, oui, maybe. Pas un mot!”

He raised his eyebrows, and then looked at Cosima and back to Delphine, letting out a light chuckle.

"What are you two talking about? You're making a girl feel self-conscious."

"Oh, ma cherie, I'm so sorry. Please forgive us. He is just being cheeky." Delphine turned to him and playfully shooed him away.  


Nearly half an hour passed after Thomas returned to the bar, Cosima and Delphine chatted and sipped red wine, Spanish and French, respectively. 

Delphine excused herself to go to the restroom, and Cosima grabbed one of the long cloth napkins, pulling out a pen, scribbling. After a moment, she rose, walking briskly to the bar.

“Thomas, I know I must seem a little … out of the blue, unexpected. And this is going to sound super strange, but do you have, like, a blanket or something I could take with me, just tonight? Delphine would like totally send it back, or whatever.”

Thomas looked at her deeply, skeptically. “And what exactly do you need this blanket for?”

“I, um, well, I was maybe hoping we’d go down to the beach later. But, I totally understand if not. I just thought …”

Thomas cut her off. “I don’t know how much Delphine has told you, but she’s been through a lot. What,” he paused a moment and smirked a bit like he couldn’t believe his next words, “are your intentions?”

Cosima looked back toward their table, worried the blonde would come back in the middle of this conversation. Normally she’d have some retort at his old school question, but she looked at him earnestly. “Oh, um, I think anyone who looked at your cousin would be struck by how beautiful she is, right, like, striking. But … she is so _smart_. And her heart … she cares so much … I can’t quite put it into words. She’s warm and empathetic, but she’s _tough_ too, I can tell. I don’t want to come on too strong here, Thomas, but I think there are moments that just change you. I feel like meeting her is going to be one of those moments for me.”

“Okay, a little dramatic don't you think? Here’s the blanket.” He reached under the bar and brought out a thin blanket, almost a tablecloth. “You be good to her.”

She nodded, and tucked it into her bag, walking briskly back to the table.

A little later, Thomas came back by, kneeling next to Delphine. “I need to go in a few minutes, but you two are welcome to stay here as long as you like. It was lovely to meet you Cosima,” he passed her a knowing glance. Delphine registered something happening between them, but wasn’t sure what it could be. 

He then turned to Delphine, his expression more serious and warm than it had been all night. “Delphine, Aurora told me why you went to speak with her. We are worried about you. I know how it weighs on you, but your mother would not want you to spend your life trying to solve a riddle you cannot solve. To waste your life on her death. You have to stop pushing yourself like this.” It was all in English, Cosima was sure now that Thomas was enlisting her help somehow.

Delphine eyes filled with unshed tears, and she shook her head slowly back and forth, “Thomas.” She reached for his hand. “Merci, I know you mean well. But I am not wasting my life. Je peux résoudre cette l'énigme.”

“D’accord,” he sighed. “J’taime, Delphine.” He kissed her cheek, and turned to the brunette, “Cosima, nice to meet you.”

As he walked away, she reached for the blonde’s hand and met her eyes, Cosima’s face lit with question and concern, eyebrows knit tightly together. She started to open her mouth, forming a plea for an explanation.

“Non, Cosima.” She shut her down a bit harshly, but then her tone softened, “Let’s get some more wine?”

“Or maybe we should finish up here, and head back out into the city. See if we can’t find some mischief to get into?”

Cosima took her hand, lightly tracing her fingers over her palm just once, then intertwined their fingers, “Let’s head down to the beach? I’d like to see the sea one more time …” she trailed off, not wanting to ruin the moment by mentioning the inevitable, a topic they had avoided all evening.

“D’accord, ma cherie, I would like that too,” she said, slightly squeezing the hand in hers. 

They walked out into the evening in a comfortable silence, making their way to La Rambla, taking in the street performers, beginning to pack it in for the evening. The tourists were now back in their rooms, late night revelry just beginning.


	9. Chapter 9

As they walked out into the night, the heat from the August afternoon dissipating, Delphine sighed and Cosima swung their entwined hands slightly.

They reached La Rambla quickly, the tree-lined, tiled pathway leading from the old town straight to the sea. Soft blue lights wrapped around the trunks and branches, giving the night an ethereal quality. 

“Felix, is not going to believe this story,” Cosima said chuckling. “I’ve been checking in with him every few days, him and Sarah, and they’ve been making fun of my lonely little jaunt through Europe.”

“What will you tell them?” She leaned to the side and cocked her head a bit, hand on her hip, striking a pose as if being appraised. “What am I like in this story of yours?”

Cosima held her free hand up to her own cheek, pinky by her lips, thumb at her ear, forming a make-believe telephone. “Let’s find out? I’ll call him.”

Delphine shook her head and laughed, “d’accord.”

“Hey Felix, buddy, how’s it going? How’s Colin?” Cosima nodded to Delphine.

“Um, yeah, Colin is great, everything is going well here in … San Francisco?” Delphine-as-Felix said hesitatingly, lowering her voice to a husky interpretation of a man with an American accent.

Cosima laughed, the affect all wrong. “Great, great, yeah, well, you know it’s my last day of the trip, and it’s been pretty boring, I mean, there was this really awful couple on the train, nearly mauled this poor boy…” She trailed off, stopping.

“Anything else?” Delphine raised an eyebrow, “Meet anyone interesting on this train.” 

“Nah, nope, pretty status quo.” The blonde turned slightly to face Cosima as they walked, dropping her own mock telephone, and narrowing her eyes, challenging the brunette.

Cosima smiled widely, tongue behind teeth, “No, actually Felix, I met this, like, angel on the train. She’s so smart – basically the first thing she said to me was about prion diseases.” She stopped for a beat as if listening to the other end of the line, “I know right, talk science to me, that’s like my catnip. And she has this big, beautiful heart. That’s when I fell for her, right there in the dining car when she talked about healing people the world has forgotten. Yep, I was a goner. I thought maybe I was dreaming, my heart conjuring this perfect person while I was sleeping. But she’s here with me right now.” Cosima stopped a moment, listening to some imagined question, “Yep, I'm looking at her as we speak." With that she turned to meet Delphine's eyes, talking more slowly. "You wouldn’t believe it, she’s gorgeous. She’s got these bouncy wild blonde curls, the biggest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen. And her laugh. Man. Did I mention she’s French?”

Delphine’s smile was broad, open, a low laugh shaking her shoulders as she looked down at Cosima’s joyful face, framed by dreadlocks. She was astonished at how the small woman saw her, how flattering the light around her must be to Cosima’s eyes. She hadn’t missed the words, “I fell for her”, and her stomach flipped. 

“Cosima that was …” she just smiled back at her, running her fingers through her hair, sweeping it to the other side, then squeezed the other woman’s hand, their fingers still interlaced, “thank you.”

“Should I go now? I should call my friend Danielle, I’m supposed to be having brunch with her tomorrow, and I think I am going to miss it.”

Cosima nodded, curious.

“Brrrrrng, brrrng. Brrrrng, brrrrrng. Cosima, are you going to answer the phone?!”

“Oh, um, Allo,” she said in a harsh attempt at a French accent.

“Allo, Danielle, comment ca va?”

“Wonderful, looking forward to our brunch tomorrow, I want to hear all about your grandmother, she’s such a lovely lady.”

Points for Cosima, she thought. “Oui, well, Danielle, that’s the thing, I think I may need to cancel brunch tomorrow … I know, I know. I, um, I met someone on the train between Valencia and Barcelona …. Non, it is not scandalous,” she said to the question from Danielle, as she quirked an eyebrow at Cosima, joking, then her words came out in a rush. “She is brilliant. Her name is Cosima and she is a scientist, but she also takes these beautiful photographs too, a storyteller. She is this little compact ball of energy, always bouncing on the soles of her feet or speaking with her hands in wild spirals. She speaks in these American idioms, sometimes I can’t follow them, sometimes they simply do not make sense, but they always make me laugh.” It’s her turn to pause, looking at Cosima, who’s dropped the fake phone, looking at her with a grin and a cocked eyebrow. “Go oooon,” she says, waving her hand for her to continue.

“You know,” she sighed, as if she truly was talking to her best friend, “this girl makes me feel so alive, like no matter what I do, I will win.” She recovers from the serious words, saying in a goofy tone, “Well, she asked me to _get off the train_ with her in Barcelona, Danielle. And … And I did.” A pause. “I know, I know it’s crazy, but we’ve had a wonderful day, and I think we will spend the night here in Barcelona somewhere. I think there is still so much to, to … _talk_ … about.” With that she fake hung-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be _talking_ very soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another brief little scene, because I couldn't get it out of my head while trying to write the next chapter.

As they neared the beach, Delphine leaned down, slipping off her sandals and rolling up her jeans. Cosima, did the same, pushing the elastic cuffs of her billowy harem pants up her calves slightly.

They walked aimlessly, fingers still intertwined, sandals dangling from their other hands. The crash and whoosh of the waves were a backdrop for their thoughts, happy, carefree, breathing in the scent of salt and seaweed. Lights from the city and the harbor danced on the water, smears of green and red and blue twinkling in the distance. The moon was just starting its assent, quarter full, the sliver still casting the beach and waves in a soft white-blue glow. There weren’t many people on the beach, but a hundred yards beyond, there were some people still milling around beach bars.

Nudging the taller woman slightly with her shoulder, Cosima indicated she was about to break the easy silence, saying softly, “Why don’t you wait here by the water, I’m going to run up to that chiringuito” a word Thomas taught her “and get us a bottle of wine.” She kicked herself for not asking at the restaurant, but she hadn’t been sure where the night would go, what would happen.

“Mmmm, okay, but don’t be long,” releasing her hand, she watched Cosima turn and walk away, swaying slightly in the sand. 

Unbidden, a song started playing in Delphine’s mind, _“youuu, soft and only,”_ perhaps primed from the conversation only a few hours earlier. She pulled out her headphones, needing to hear those words as she watched this unexpected, spectacular woman growing smaller, walking down the beach in the moonlight. 

As the drums trundled in, she felt warm and free, and had a singular thought that this would be - was already - one of the best nights of her life. She started swaying slightly, closing her eyes, nodding her head to the beat, thinking of the way the dreadlocked woman swayed when she walked, the way her hands cut through the air with her passions, that genuine smile full of tongue and teeth. How unlikely their meeting. 

_Spinning on that dizzy edge_  
_I kissed her face and kissed her head_  
_And dreamed of all the different ways I had_  
_To make her glow_

The song on repeat, Delphine lost herself in the melody, in thoughts of her. 

\-----------------

Cosima had secured the wine and glasses after some heavy negotiation with the bartender at the beach bar. Walking back toward Delphine now she had mischievous thoughts dancing through her mind; she looked up and down the beach to find a more private spot for them. 

Then she saw Delphine in the distance, bathed in moonlight, the sight stopping Cosima cold. 

The blonde had in her earbuds, eyes closed, hips and long legs swaying to the beat of an unheard song, arms above her head pumping slowly in the air, her curls tumbling softly with the movement and the salty breeze, her blouse pulled up just enough to expose a bit of pale skin in the moonlight. So beautiful, so carefree … so goofy. 

_I could watch this lovely woman dance all my life._

The thought surprised her. She shook her head slightly, smiling, and slowly made her way across the sand. She quietly set the wine down in the sand by Delphine’s bag, and reached out to brush the blonde’s curls.

She knew she startled her, a deep blush blossoming across Delphine’s cheeks, clear even in the darkness.

“Um, oh, mon dieu,” she breathed out, pulling out the earbuds. “I’m … you got the wine!” She clapped her hands together as she lightly drew in her bottom lip, looking down at the sand in embarrassment.

Cosima moved closer, cupping Delphine’s chin until their eyes met. Her other hand traced the curve of the taller woman’s shoulder, ghosting down her side, looping her arm around her slender waist. “You are breathtaking.” Cosima pulled their bodies together as she captured the taller woman’s lips in a soft kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night has fallen, and as Delphine and Cosima walk along the nearly deserted beach, they come upon an alcove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skip this chapter if you want to keep this T-rated. This got rather a little more ... descriptive... than I expected.

They walked along the beach for a ways, hand in hand, stopping now and then to lean into each other and look out at the waves, let the surf glide over their feet. Then out of nowhere, they came upon a secluded bit of beach, several dunes providing privacy from the thinning crowds of the beachside bars, now far in the distance. Without a word, their direction shifted, angling for the little valley behind the dunes.

Cosima looked up briefly, thanking whatever gods may be for this woman, the night, and this little private alcove.

She pulled her hand from Delphine’s, it felt empty and cold at the loss of her. Cosima laid out the blanket, and slowly sank down, the cool, fine sand leaching heat through the blanket, pulling Delphine down to sit next to her. 

Cosima’s fingers brushed the blonde’s cheek, looking deeply, seriously into her eyes, a question lingering there. As she leaned in, their noses just brushing, Delphine met her eyes directly, trying to banish any question she had, letting her know she wanted this too. They kissed, slow, tender, at first. But as Delphine slipped her arms around the brunette’s neck, cradling her dreads, pulling her closer, gaining leverage, the kiss deepened. Her tongue brushed across soft lips, begging entrance. They pulled into each other, tongues sliding in and out, hot and needy. Cosima lightly sucked Delphine’s tongue into her mouth, a moan escaping from the blonde's lips.

Delphine broke away, breathing deeply the scent of the smaller woman: sandalwood, vanilla, musk, mingled with the salty air, the breeze fluttering around them. When the blonde said Cosima’s name it was almost a hiss. She nuzzled into her, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her neck. Then she stopped, still pressing into her, burying her face in the crook of the smaller woman’s neck. She was overwhelmed. 

_How could this be happening so quickly? How can I feel all of these things, this strongly, in a single day?_

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” Cosima pulled back so she could see the blonde’s face. “We don’t have to do anything at all. We can just lay here and listen to the ocean and look at the stars, okay?” She was looking into hazel eyes trying to convey how earnestly she wanted to simply be near the blonde, nothing else expected. 

“No, Cosima, it isn’t that. I do … want … you. More than I have wanted anyone in my life, and, that is … this is strange, non? It has been a day. Less than a day. And,” she hated to say it, to break the spell, “you are leaving tomorrow. Maybe we should stop now, maybe, maybe then I can survive you leaving.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, before she could think how exposed and small they would make her feel.

Cosima looked back at her carefully, thoughtfully, her lips slightly dipping into a frown as she reached for the other woman’s palm, pulling their fingers together, stroking slowly.

“From the moment I saw you on that train I felt drawn to you,” she touched her forehead to Delphine’s, pushing a wild curl behind her ear. “A magnet, or … like, the red string of fate, as fanciful as that sounds. I feel as though I have known you my whole life. It is … rare, maybe anomalous, but I don’t think it’s strange.” The blonde nodded her head up, just slightly, brushing her nose against the smaller woman’s, a light Eskimo kiss. 

Cosima paused, eyes fluttering closed at the gesture, considering, “What happens tomorrow is complicated. I understand if you don’t want to, like, go any further. You are safe here with me. This is already the perfect night … the perfect moment, just being here with you.”

Delphine couldn’t deny what she felt, what she wanted, and she did feel safe with this woman.

“I want to be with you, Cosima. Can we just take this slow?”

Cosima nodded, reaching up to caress the woman's cheek, fingers brushing back to trace her earlobe, ghosting along her long slender neck, fingers light, dancing across her chest. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the dip of the woman’s collarbone, then to her lips. “Just tell me what you want.”

But Delphine didn’t speak, showing her instead. She draped her arms behind the smaller woman, pulling her closer, she tilted her head down, found Cosima’s neck, resumed her work, placing hot kisses there, and breathing her in. Then Delphine found her earlobe, behind a cascade of dreads, nibbling lightly, then breathing into her ear, “I want to see you, Cosima.” She slid her hands firmly up Cosima’s hips, just under her tank top, the blonde’s bottom lip pulled between her teeth as their eyes met.

Cosima nodded, leaning back, allowing the blonde to push the garment up and off her body, who looked long at the taut, tanned abdomen, the fabric of her purple and black bra. Fingers fluttering, she traced the brunette’s lean arm, coming for the first time across the dandelion seeds dancing up her left forearm. Her breath caught, and she leaned down to place a small kiss on each seed, looking up at Cosima after with dark eyes. 

Cosima’s hands were moving suddenly to the hem of the blonde’s blouse, pulling the shirt up but struggling. Delphine grabbed either side and whisked it over her own head, curls swaying. Cosima gasped, creamy skin gleaming in the moonlight, the black lace of her bra standing out, drawing attention. She ran her fingers along the outline of the woman’s bra. “I want to see you too, is it okay if I …?” 

“Yes, Cosima, please.” 

She unhooked the bra quickly, fabric falling down her arms. “God, you are so beautiful.” Cosima placed a palm on the back of the blonde’s neck, cradling her, as she pushed Delphine’s sitting form slowly backward onto the blanket, blonde curls splaying out beneath her. As Cosima drew herself over the tall frame, placing one knee on either side, she slowed momentarily to dispose of her own bra. 

She leaned in, kissing the woman beneath her, brief kisses. The blonde drew her hand between them, lightly cupping Cosima’s small breast, running a thumb over the tender peak forming. “Tu es belle, mon petite amor, tu es trop belle.”

The taller woman’s long, lean body was covered in goosebumps, the light breeze from the sea moving against dewey skin. Cosima, propped up on one elbow, eyes following her fingers as they drew down the woman’s side, pulling her palm across her toned stomach, then up to dusky nipples, hard against the cooling breeze and the brunette's touch. She pulled a nipple between her thumb and fingers, squeezing and tweaking lightly, looking into the blonde’s eyes. “Is this okay?” 

“Oui, I am not fragile, ma cherie. I want your hands on me.”

A bolt shot through Cosima, heat pooling in her own core at her directness. She lost her hesitancy then, pulling herself more fully over Delphine, placing her knee between her thighs, warmth evident even through her jeans, eliciting a small gasp. She caressed one breast with her hand, fingers teasing, and pulled the other into her mouth, tasting the woman’s salty skin, a hint of lavender underneath. Flicking and sucking through her smile, the woman beneath her moaned and arched into the touch. She moved to the other breast, the cool breeze on wet skin making Delphine shiver as she ran her hands along Cosima’s toned back and shoulders, fingers brushing against dreads. 

Delphine's body thrumming, she pulled Cosima up to her, bringing their mouths together, this kiss needy and deep. She nipped at Cosima’s lip, sucking it in softly. The smaller woman's response was to press herself ever closer to the blonde, place greater friction between her thighs. 

Cosima continued exploring, running her free hand down Delphine’s stomach, pausing at the top of her jeans, fingers over the top button, she broke their kiss briefly, looking in her eyes, checking in. The blonde licked her lips, nodded slightly, eyes expectant.

Cosima quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her, pulling the tight fabric down the blonde’s long legs, struggling a bit, both lightly laughing, but with a sense of urgency. As soon as the blonde’s legs were free, Cosima pulled her harem pants off, reciprocating, wanting to feel as much of her skin against the French woman as possible.

Cosima let her hands slowly trace up from the blonde’s ankles, kissing just inside her knee, hands and lips moving up her body slowly. Delphine’s head was tilted back, hands reaching down but unable to reach the smaller woman who was lingering over every inch of her as if committing it to memory. She had said to go slowly, but her body now betrayed her mind. Her fingers finally found purchase around Cosima’s dreads, lightly tugging her up, brushing their lips together, kissing the top of Cosima’s cheek, back to her ear letting a hot breath escape as she nibbled her earlobe. She noted with pleasure the shivers the action elicited every time. She traced her long fingers along the back of her neck, down shoulders, as the brunette pressed fully into her, the taut peaks of her breasts brushing against Delphine’s. 

The smaller woman brought her hand between their bodies at their waists, trailing her fingers down to black lace, letting them slip just inside the hem. Delphine let out a little moan, lifting and opening her hips. Cosima’s hand slipped further in, past the last barrier between them, dipping her fingers to the woman’s core.

“Oh my god, Delphine, you are so wet,” Cosima moaned, fingers tracing the length of her slick folds.

“I have been wanting you since dinner. I have been wet …” she moaned as Cosima circled her clit, arching slightly toward the smaller woman, losing her words.

Cosima moved to pull the panties off, Delphine’s hips lifting. She took in the sight of the woman’s swollen sex in the moonlight, taking too long. Delphine grabbed the other woman's hand, placing it on her again. In response, Cosima’s fingers moved eagerly through the blonde’s slick folds, from clit to entrance and back, so slowly, teasing, the wet sound just audible over the softly crashing waves. Delphine drew her knees up, wider, and looped them around Cosima, offering herself to the small woman hovering above her.

Cosima pulled her hand away, breeze cooling the blonde as she whimpered. Her whimper quickly turned to a moan as Cosima webbed both hands out against her abdomen, stroking down, she met Delphine’s eyes again before lowering her mouth, seeing only desire in the dim moonlight. She hummed into Delplhine’s slick, swollen folds, tracing her tongue from her clit down, circling the woman’s entrance, eliciting sharp gasps as she dipped her tongue just inside, thrusting in and out softly, tasting the blonde’s arousal. She placed her tongue flat against her length, stroking back up, then circling the woman’s clit, sucking the bundle hard into her mouth briefly, the blonde’s hips bucked wildly at the contact.

“Please, Cosima,” her voice a low growl, needy, “j'ai besoin de toi maintenant.”

Cosima pulled up, understanding what she wanted well enough, if not the words. She wiped her mouth, two fingers replacing her tongue at her entrance, not wanting to make her wait any longer, she slowly thrust both into slick heat up to her knuckles, looking into Delphine’s eyes as she adjusted to her, head tilting back a bit, eyes glazing over. She set a steady pace as she draped the length of her body over the blonde’s. Their lips crashed together, teeth and tongue, as Cosima thrust steadily. 

Delphine scraped blunt nails down Cosima’s back and wrapped her legs tightly around the small woman’s ass, pulling her closer, as she arched, head falling to the side. Gaining leverage, giving Delphine the friction she craved, Cosima placed her thigh behind her hand, added a third finger, thrusting faster, harder, the blonde trying to stifle and swallow her moans, her hips rolling up to meet every thrust. She could feel Delphine starting to quake just slightly, and she quickened the roll of her thumb over her clit as she maintained her pace, curling her fingers to coax her over the edge.

She was rewarded by a long, low moan, and then her name, falling from perfect lips, as the woman came undone beneath her, walls clenching and pulsing around Cosima’s fingers as she slowed her pace, but moved inside her still, bringing her down slowly. 

Delphine’s body went slack, hands falling haphazardly to each side, spent, as Cosima pulled her fingers out gently.

“Mon dieu, Cosima, what have you done to me.”

Cosima pulled up alongside the blonde, wrapping her arm around her waist, chuckling, “Your face is so adorable when you come. You looked like you were concentrating so hard, and then you held your breath, then this flash of surprise. You’re just … you’re just beautiful.”

They laid a moment, resting in silence, Cosima looking intently at Delphine, as the blonde sighed, pulling herself back together.

Then she cupped the brunette’s cheek, turning on her side to see her more clearly, brushing dreads back over her shoulder. “You are the beautiful one, ma cherie.” She inhaled long and deep, and then, with mischief in her eye, she rolled, pushing her weight against the small brunette to pull on top, a full grin on her face to match her lover's.

“Oh, Delphine, you don’t have to, this is enough for me.”

Delphine didn’t respond, just placed her hips between Cosima’s thighs, rocking just slightly, and running her hands softly up and down the brunette’s toned legs. Her right hand moved further inward, just barely caressing Cosima's inner thigh.

“You’re saying you don’t want this,” she said softly, teasingly, as she slipped a finger just behind ruined underwear, finding her wet and ready. “I would beg to differ.”

Cosima’s eyes widened in shock, then desire, as she brought her own lip firmly between teeth. "Mmmmm," was all she could manage. The sight of the blonde hovering over her, her suggestive words in that accent, had her body already thrumming. 

“Je veux me sentir chaque pouce de vous. I want to feel you. Inside and out.”

“Ohmigod, Delphine.” All she could manage was a nod against the flush of heat and desire coursing through her.

“Are you sure, ma cherie,” she teased as she ran her finger against the smaller woman around her underwear, “because I could stop if you want me to.”

Cosima whimpered, a pleading expression on her face. Delphine grinned, leaning up to kiss the woman softly, as she ran both hands along each thigh under cotton boy shorts, pulling them off in one quick motion.

Her tone and actions suggested a confidence she didn’t quite feel. She had never been with a woman before, but the way they moved together felt so natural, so right. She was telling herself to trust her instincts, listen to the woman beneath her, follow her motions. She wanted to make her break open beneath her like she had, wanted to feel her come.

Her long fingers slid through Cosima's folds, the terrain new, but familiar. She stretched her thumb forward, finding the swollen bundle of nerves, pressing lightly in small, uneven circles. 

The brunette’s lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, arching her back into the blonde’s hand, wanting more. Gaining courage from her response, Delphine pressed into her then, one long finger moving slowly, wondering at the soft, velvet-feel of her inner walls. She laid herself over the smaller woman, whispering to her, mumbling in French as she moved inside her and pressed kisses along her jaw and neck where Cosima’s scent was strongest. Picking up the pace, she pressed the back of her hand against the woman’s clit as she thrust with her hips. 

Cosima, for her part, was having trouble making sense of the physical sensations - which bordered on teasing, though she knew that was not the blonde's intent - and a sensual, emotional response to having the blonde move with her, through her, while looking at her with such earnest hazel eyes.

As Delphine's fingers thrust within Cosima, she watched her soft, round breasts move in such a fluid way that her own core flushed again with heat. Unable to resist, and then realizing she didn’t need to, she leaned down to take a breast into her mouth, sucking hard at the nipple. Both women moaned at the same time. 

She asked the brunette what she wanted softly, and in answer to her request, she added more fingers, thrusted more quickly. She wasn’t sure she was keeping a steady rhythm, but Cosima was responding, hips rolling, moaning soft “yeses” and “more”. 

Delphine’s arm burned, but the look on the woman’s face, her dreads splayed around her like a halo, the feel of Cosima around her fingers, she pressed on. She must have been lost in the feeling, in the vision of Cosima’s clenched eyes, mascara winging out, as she pulsed around her. Before she realized it, Cosima was letting out a strangled cry, hands clutching at Delphine’s back. She kept moving, keeping up the steady pace, until Cosima lightly pushed against her, “too much, baby.”

Delphine slowed, pulling out her fingers tenderly. She kissed Cosima’s forehead as she moved upward. “Ma cherie, you feel amazing.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” she huffed loudly, moving to curl into the blonde. “Jesus.”

They laid a long moment before talking again, before pulling some semblance of clothing back on their bodies, damp from the sea salt spray, their exertion. Cosima pulled the taller woman into her now, blonde curls falling across her chest as she cradled her, arm looped around Delphine's back and waist.

Then they looked up, Cosima’s finger reached up into the night, pointing. “Ah, look, at least we can make out Scorpio. You see it to the right just above the horizon? You can see the loop of his tail, following it up,” as she made a looping motion, “to the head.” 

Delphine nuzzled into her, bringing her closer, her fingers splayed across the other woman's ribs. “I always loved looking at the stars too. My mother and I used to sit long into the summer nights in the fields just beyond my grandparents’ cottage. I haven’t looked up at the stars, with someone I care about at least, for many years.” Cosima turned to look at the blonde, who was looking up. 

Cosima's eyes slowly closed at the sight, watching contentment and wonder wash across the blonde's features. With her free hand she reached for Delphine's, their fingers sliding and stroking against each other without intent, just enjoying the sensation of ghosting fingers over flesh.

“Well, I find it fitting then, laying here with you that I can see one of my favorite constellations – it’s very small – but elegant, perfect.” They both paused, the blonde waiting for Cosima to go on. “If you look up and to the left, from Scorpio, past the moon, about, um, 45 degrees, you’ll see it.”

She pulled her hand away from Delphine's, tracing the outline of the constellation with her finger in the darkness, nose pressed into Delphine’s curls, whose hand was splayed again across Cosima's waist. “It’s almost like an inverted little dipper.” 

“Oui, I see it, I think, a very bright blue star in the middle of a sort of ribbon shape.”

“Yes! Exactly. That … is the constellation Delphinus. And that star you see, the bright blue one, that’s Beta Delphini, it’s actually a binary star, two stars orbiting each other every 27 years.”

Delphine turned into the brunette then, laughing lightly into her ear, tracing her fingers along her dreads, the side of her face. "How many perfect moments do we get, ma cherie?"

Cosima had no answer, just leaned into her touch, and pulled her into a light kiss.

They looked up at the sky together, pointing out the rare shooting star and leaning in to easy silence, pinpricks casting the barest blue light on them down below. As they listened to the waves lapping the shore, they drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

The scent of morning woke her, sweet, salty air, a hint of the pungent grass that lie just beyond the beach. There was an orange-brown tint permeating her eye lids just before she fully opened them, not sure where she was, not sure where she’d been, she felt suspended, but happy. 

Delphine opened her eyes and gasped. She was curled over a tiny, compact woman, her chin resting on brunette dreads, breathing in her scent, still sandalwood but with a strong undercurrent of musk and salt now, the woman’s arm slung lowly across her waist. They were both clad in sand and haphazard, non-matching garments, backup clothes long-lost at the bottom of travel bags.

Her confusion abated, she breathed in, _Cosima_ , a smile growing on her lips, slightly shaking her head. What had they done? She chuckled. She must have moved enough to rustle the small woman next to her. 

“Mmmmhm, ugh, it is toooo early, I can tell. Stop.” Cosima mumbled, pushing against an unknown weight, irritated but soft, her legs stretched, toes arching, then arms reached out, curling around Delphines thigh, stroking down them absentmindedly.

“Ohhhh, Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” she said, all at once coming to the present. “Delphine, omigod,”she looked at the blonde woman in wonder, sleepy eyes, a smile budding by the moment. She shook her head slightly, hand covering her mouth. “You’re … totally real.” 

Delphine looked down at her amused, her curls falling in around her face.

Cosima nodded to herself dramatically a few times as she sat up with the blonde. “I dreamed of you just. like. this.” She waved her hands down the long form, cocking her eyebrow, a smirk on her lips.

“Oui, ma cherie, it is me. And you. You are an adorable, grumpy” she pointed softly “sprite … definitely not a morning person.” She slowed then, reaching out her hand to stroke Cosima’s cheek, leaning in, asking for a kiss. Cosima willingly obliged, nuzzling into her neck after, placing a soft kiss there.

“God, how did I convince you to sleep out here all night?”

“I believe you said something of stars and waves as perfect compliments to each other, infinite. You kept saying the Milky Way would rise too … but I think it’s too bright here, we did not see much,” she winked at the brunette.

“Oh yeah, _that_ line. Glad it worked on you, Frenchie.”

Delphine slapped her arm then, “Stop it Cosima. I heard your tone last night. You meant every word. You were being a nerd. Just after we made love” she paused as she smiled shyly, looking at the brunette through her lashes, hand lightly stroking the brunette’s thigh, “you were talking about the music and greetings of the Voyager expedition, and your favorite constellation." Her eyebrow quirked at the last, lightly sucking in her bottom lip, remembering Cosima's words, the tone of her voice when she spoke of those binary stars.

Cosima laughed lightly, “You’re right. I AM a nerd. But you made me want to sell that ...”

“I’m still here, Cosima. I think you succeeded.”

Cosima beamed for a moment. “Well what do you think, should we take a dip, cold as it may be? I think it’s crazy we didn’t get a room”

“Mmm, d'accord. I think it will be very cold. DO NOT splash me until I am in, oui? Don’t be a brat.”

“Oui, mon amour,” Cosima said in an affected accent, winking at Delphine. “I promise, I will be gentle.”

Delphine offered her hand to Cosima as she rose, pulling her up. Cosima quickly changed, still shielded by the dunes, slipping into a swimsuit she had tucked in her bag, the blonde quietly pulled off her top layer to reveal the black lace from the night before, no swimsuit hidden away.

“Mmmmm,” Cosima mumbled as her eyes lingered over the blonde's form, moving in to pull their bodies closer. She squeezed her hip, now a favorite gesture, as she grinned up at her new lover. Delphine hummed back contentedly in response, drew their mouths together and placed a tender kiss to Cosima’s lips, nipping just slightly. 

They waded into the ocean, tentatively, the early morning hour, the breeze, the chill of the ocean, freezing. They both giggled and welped, but slowly they got used to the cold.

Waist deep, Delphine drew her hand from the water and traced Cosima’s upper arm, down to her fingers, stroking them lightly, the water dripping on Cosima's exposed skin making her shiver. Cosima stroked the blonde in turn, pulling her fingers up to trace the taller woman’s collarbone, the back of her neck, playing at the small hairs she found there. 

As they got acclimated, they waded more deeply in the water, swimming a ways out, kicking and splashing at each other playfully as their bodies lifted and rolled with the gentle waves. Delphine laid back, her head tilted to the sky, floating, as Cosima swam leisurely nearby enjoying the look of contentment and peace on the blonde's face. She gave her space, but after an unexpected wave knocked the taller woman off center, Cosima wrapped her arms around her shoulders and knees and pulled the taller woman into her, cradling and laughing, weightlessness in water making the gesture possible. 

Delphine wrapped her arms around Cosima's neck and pulled her body close to the smaller woman. Cosima's fingers stroked down the lace of the bra at the blonde's shoulders as she held her, fingers webbing out across her back. Cosima wasn't sure her own intention, she just wanted to feel there were no barrier between them.

Delphine pulled her into a searing kiss, sucking on her lip forcefully, bruising. Cosima could feel the blonde's eyebrows knitting, her lips pulling down into a frown even as they closed around her own mouth. The kiss deepened, tongues playfully battling for dominance, tasting the sharp tang of saltwater every now and then.

As the sun rose more fully, illuminating the waves and sand, they made their way back the little retreat they had created on the beach, a little haven protected from time. A spell they both knew would be broken soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little exposition and angst before the end.

They lay next to each other, damp and drying from their swim. Cosima nuzzled into Delphine’s side, a reversal from the night before, the blonde cradling her on the blanket now damp with saltwater and a thin film of sand from the night before.

“Delphine?”

“Mmm,” she said in more a contented murmur than words.

“Can I ask you a question? One I don’t think you’re gonna like?”

“Oui, Cosima,” she said slowly, as she looked back from the waves and down to the brunette curled into her side, a little nervous, eyebrows knitting.

“Thomas seemed really concerned last night.” Delphine’s body became rigid under Cosima’s. “You don’t seem to want to talk about it, and I totally respect that, but, I just wanted to ask if you are alright? And if it is something you want to talk about with me … I would like to know anything you would share.”

Delphine shifted, pulling away slightly, unsure. “Ohh,” her face contorted as she looked away, “it isn’t a pleasant story, ma cherie.” Using the familiar words the same way the brunette had the night before, melancholy and distant.

“Tell me anyway.”

She paused. So long Cosima thought the attempt to draw her out was lost, considering what to say to move on. But then Delphine started, tentatively. 

“My maman, you heard Thomas speak of her, yes?” Cosima nodded, squeezing the blonde’s hip and placing a small kiss on her shoulder. “Well, she died when I was young, 16. She was a teacher – biology, actually – and a pianist. She played beautifully when I was a child. My best childhood memories are of listening to her play, curled under the piano, playing make-believe or reading.” She let out a soft sigh, remembering. 

“She had Huntington’s. You know it?”

Cosima tried not to react too strongly, slowly pulling up to sit, running her fingers along Delphine’s cheek, her curls. “Delphine …” The name was a whisper and her eyes betrayed concern, panic, the brunette's eyes searching. She was unable to stop the thoughts flooding her mind: 50/50 chance, not genetic predisposition but genetic destiny, incurable, slow. She tried to stay focused on the woman before her, her story.

“I was very close with her all my life. Watching that happen … I remember the most devastating thing to me was that she was no longer able to play. There were worse things, you understand, but that was what I felt most deeply at the time.” She shook her head and closed her eyes, the next words spoken from a necessary distance, not wanting to see the concern in Cosima’s eyes “Some things happened, at the end. I think my father blamed me for some of it … I went back to boarding school, seeing him sometimes at holidays. But my singular focus became finding a cure, some way to _fix_ it.” She looked now. “If not for my maman, then for others. I graduated early from University, went straight into medical school. I have been aiming for this point my whole life.”

Cosima didn’t know what to say. The panic still simmering just beneath her skin, the need to comfort the trembling woman beneath her was overwhelming.

“Delphine …” She leaned down and kissed her tenderly. Cosima pulled back, but still hovered just above the blonde. “That is why they are so worried. Are you … are you okay?” 

Delphine placed her hands on each side of Cosima’s face, pushing her back slightly and looked into her eyes, a small smile on her lips at the brunette’s concern. “Ma cherie, I am not sick.”

Her head dipped involuntarily to the blonde's chest, laying her head there in relief. She mumbled into the taller woman's collarbone, “That’s, that’s why … CRISPR. You’re searching, that’s the riddle you are trying to answer?” She asked, recalling Thomas’ words.

“Oui. I am not sure if I have it in me to continue this crusade. I want to feel useful, I want to honor my maman, but I also want to have new experiences, meet cheeky Americans on the train…” Her sigh trailed off into a light chuckle. 

Cosima leaned up to kiss her again, unsure what else to do. She ran her hands down the other woman’s arms, fingers loosely intertwining, stroking. “I’m so sorry. Please tell me what I can do.”

“Oh, Cosima, this was all a very long time ago. My grand-mere and Thomas are just very protective. I am happy to be here with you now. Can we enjoy this?”

They laid together for a while, drying off, not speaking, nestled into each other in the early morning light.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The moment receded, light strokes and murmurs replacing the tension. After a while, Cosima pulled herself up, grabbed her bag and found her camera. “Do you mind if I take a photo of you? I want to remember you just like this. Remind myself you weren’t a dream … I’m not sure I will believe it though.”

“D’accord,” she said, a light chuckle and hesitance in her voice, “Okay.”

She laid down next to Delphine, snapping a few shots of their smiling faces tilted lightly into one another, shutter loudly clicking. She pulled up, snapping a few just of Delphine - the first a bashful smile, then capturing her lip pulled lightly between teeth. But as she looked through the viewfinder, down the barrel of the lens, she saw the blonde’s expression change, sadness evident there, her lip barely trembling, before she turned away from Cosima, back of her hand covering her eyes.

Cosima put the camera hastily away, leaning down to pull the blonde into her arms. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“Non.” She let out what sounded like a light gasp. “You did everything right. I don’t want it to end. I feel like my heart is pumping now the way it should have pumped its whole life.”

Cosima leaned down again to lay next to the blonde. Facing each other on their sides, Cosima pulled their lips together in a soft lingering kiss. “I’m so sorry. I hate this.” She held her, brushed her cheek, touching forehead to forehead. “Oh god, I didn’t expect this to happen.”

She waited a long moment, eyes closed, a barely audible whimper escaping. “I hate this. But I do think we might need to go soon. My flight’s in a couple hours.” Cosima’s voice was low, tentative, concerned her words might wound, her or Delphine, she wasn’t sure. 

Their hands met each other between them, stroking, intertwining their fingers. “How did this even happen to us? I have been on this trip for weeks, traveled through Paris just last month, how am I only meeting you now? It’s not fair, some cosmic joke.”

“I don’t know what to say Cosima. I know we said that long distance never works, and that we are both still trying to figure out so many things. We have our own lives, ambitions, plans. But, maybe you can come with me to Paris? Change your flight, let me show you Paris like you should have seen it the first time. I want to know you.” Her tone was earnest, but not pleading, offering an alternative with no expectation.

Cosima propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at the blonde, still stroking her hand. “I want to. God, I so want to see Paris with you.” She placed her fingers on Delphine’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over her brows, her lips, then smiling. “You have no idea. But school starts next week. I have to go back. I haven’t figured out if I want to follow some other path, so I can’t just walk away from the one I’m on.”

Delphine let out a slow sigh, her voice hitching. “I understand, cherie. I do.” She wrapped her hand around the back of Cosima’s neck, the other hand pushing dreads behind Cosima’s shoulder, pulling her in for a kiss. 

Cosima pulled away after. She sat up abruptly, gathering their things. Lingering, she determined, was only going to make the situation worse. 

As they walked toward the avenue that ran along the coast, she reached for Delphine’s hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. Delphine leaned her head toward the shorter girl just slightly, Cosima’s nestled perfectly between her neck and shoulder. As they waited at the taxi stand, Delphine turned, pressing a kiss to Cosima’s temple. “That old woman, the one dreaming of this alternate universe, she is thankful she got to make this small lapse in judgment with you, Cosima. Even if it does not last.”

Cosima’s eyes closed tightly, her features a riot of emotion: anguish, warmth, frustration. Her frame slackened next to Delphine, wrapping her arm around the tall woman’s waist, folding herself into her form.


	14. Chapter 14

At the train station, they retrieved their bags. So strange to think not 20 hours before they were placing them here, strangers, only a hint of recognition at something essential in the other. And now, they were lovers, saying goodbye, some vague warning plaguing their decision to return to well-constructed lives. 

As they reached the platform for Delphine’s train, onward to Paris, Cosima dropped her bags, looking at Delphine helplessly, placing each of her hands on the other woman’s arms, stroking lightly. 

“I … I don’t want you to get on this train. I don’t want to say goodbye.” She stopped, moving one hand up to stroke her curls, tuck them behind her ear. 

Delphine didn’t speak. She placed both her palms on either side of the shorter woman’s face, pulling her up and into her, drawing their mouths together for a sloppy kiss, immediately deep and needy. They grasped at each other, clueless to the cacophony surrounding them, both women grappling with the thoughts of this being their last encounter.

Delphine averted her red-rimmed hazel eyes as she pulled away. 

“This is crazy. This is crazy.” Cosima grabbed her bag, digging into it as she kneeled down, “I know we said long distance would never work, but, but,” she looked up as she fumbled for a pen and paper, “we need to make a plan. Right now, something…”

“Non. No, we said if we wrote, if we talked on the phone, even Skype, that it would fade, this connection would be … killed … by the distance. Maybe you were right. Just. Come with me NOW! You can go to school next week.” The bell dinged, indicating one minute to departure.

“Oh god, listen, let’s … let’s meet here, in Barcelona, in …” she raised her hands in question, letting the blonde fill in the rest.

“In one year?” Delphine raised her eyebrows as she spoke.

“One year, from this date, no, no from Last Night.” She closed her fist, and bounced it once, twice. “Wait, one year!? One year is too long. 3 months? That’s, like, winter break. 3 months.”

“Non. 6 months, from last night, That is 2nd of March.”

“OK, this platform, March 2nd. Um, 6pm?”

“Oui!” She leaned in, kissed Cosima again, hurriedly, running her knuckles lightly against Cosima’s cheek. “I will see you 2nd of March, 6pm, this platform.”

She hopped on the train as the last warning bell dinged and the train began to move. She leaned out slightly and yelled, “Do not be late, ma cherie!”

She walked through the aisles and found a seat by the window half a car in. As the train slowly departed, she found Cosima through the window, pressed her hand to the glass, and then, pulling back, blew Cosima a kiss.

The brunette grinned broadly, goofily, tongue fully pushed between her teeth, then blew a kiss, waving her hand in an exaggerated arc.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of what happens after 'goodbye'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has shared their thoughts on this fic!

As soon as the station was out of sight, the blonde slumped in her seat. _Why did she not come with me? Classes didn't start for a week. Merde. Merde. She had to feel it too? What could I have said to bring her with me?_ She looked out the window in a quick, dramatic turn of her head, as if to tell Cosima something to change her mind, but, of course, all she saw was the blur of grey and green and brown. 

What a _strange_ woman, she thought. _No, not_ strange, _singular, unique, all her own_. Delphine nodded absentmindedly, as if she’d stumbled on the right characterization, a small smile playing on her lips. She reached into her bag to pull out the _Scientific American_ , hoping Cosima wouldn’t mind the theft. Instead she found a cloth napkin, marked on both sides by a neat scrawl.

_I swear since seeing Your face_  
_The whole world is fraud and fantasy_  
_The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom_  
_The distracted birds can’t distinguish birdseed from thistle._  


_You turned my world upside down today Delphine. We’re about to head out to the beach, I hope, or at least, I’m about to ask you, and you left your bag behind just now, so I want to write this down before I lose my nerve. I think I may not recover from the way your beautiful curls sway when you walk. Or how your nose crinkles when you laugh at my stupid jokes. Or how every word you speak is colored by kindness. I just want you to know, whatever happens today or tomorrow, I am lucky to have met you. And to the great question before you: determine your own path. Do what makes you happy. I think your grand-mere (mare?, I’m not sure) may agree._

Delphine stroked the cloth napkin, flattening it out, astonished. 

“Oh Cosima, parfait.” She whispered aloud, forgetting where she was, sad and excited at the same time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cosima slowly headed outside the station, deciding on an expedient, expensive taxi. Walking through the motions, spurred through ticketing, immigration, security by sheer force of habit, numbed, mind wandering. _How am I going to go back to Minnesota after this?_

She thought of the night before, their passion certainly on her mind, but the lingering touches, their earnest discussions and playful banter were what made her heart ache.

Reaching her aisle, Cosima slumped in the seat. Cheap airfare, middle seat, of course. She prepared herself for the first 8 hour flight. She dug into her bag, searching for her ipod. Grasping her headphones she pulled them out, perplexed by what she held in her hand. A small black mp3 player, attached to her own earbuds. She sat up a bit straighter, looked around. _What the hell is this? Oh god, did I lose my ipod?_

She turned the small player on, trying to understand, thinking back to that moment on the beach. What had it looked like, the player she held? Then she saw it. A playlist. _For Cosima._

A grin broke out, then a gasp. Fumbling, moving too fast, she put the earbuds in her ears, frantic to hear. She opened the playlist, and almost giggled, shaking her head at the list she saw:

Edith Piaf – _Sous le Ciel de Paris_  
The Cure – _Just Like Heaven_  
Gustafson – _Bord de Mer_  
Billie Holiday – _Them There Eyes_  
Tino Rossi – _J’attendrai_

Of course that beautiful creature would poke fun at her, and toss her a riddle at the same time, a riddle in French. Just five songs. She knew they all meant something specific. Piaf, clearly a swipe at her assumptions of the French. The Cure warmed her as she remembered the blonde’s words, “what I always thought love sounded like.” That Billie Holiday song already had her heart beating faster, tears constricting her throat - _You have a certain little cute way of flirtin'. They make me feel so happy, they make me feel so blue. I'm fallin', no stallin', in a great big way for you. My heart is jumpin', you started something, with them there eyes._

The last one must mean something, just by virtue of being last. As the song began to play, she softly smiled. A French crooner. She’d never heard of Tino Rossi. But _attendrai_ she thought meant something like time or pause, but she wasn’t sure. She wished she had a cheat sheet, an explanation for what the woman had meant.

Cosima started the last song again, closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and listened ... 

Then, _Oh shit. My phone._

She typed frantically, cursing her errant thumbs, “English Toni Rossi J’attendrai”

 _I will wait night and day,_  
_I will wait forever,_  
_For you to come back, I will wait_  
_For the bird flying away_  
_Comes to seek oblivion in its nest._  
_Time flies and runs,_  
_Beating sadly in my oh so heavy heart_  
_And yet I will wait for you to come back._  


“Shit, shit”, she said aloud, sitting up abruptly, drawing looks from her seatmates. I have to get off this damn plane. She grabbed the nearest attendant. “Um, I’m so sorry, there’s been an emergency, I have to get off this plane.”

The woman looked at her pointedly. “I’m sorry mademoiselle, the gate is closed and we are pushing back. Is this a medical emergency?” The woman placed her hand on Cosima’s arm, leaning down.

Wasn’t it a medical emergency? She felt her heart might explode if she couldn’t hold Delphine right the hell now. “Non.” She was surprised at her own word, shaking off the French. “Oh, um, no it’s not. Are you sure there is no other way?”

“I’m sorry, we have closed the gate. You are going to New York ...”

She slumped, nodding slowly, looking down. 

_I don’t even know her last name. What were we thinking? How can I find her? Delphine, UPMC, immunology._ The thoughts repeating in her mind like a mantra. 

_Six months._ She could hear Sarah’s voice in her head, knew exactly what she would say when Cosima told her this story. 

_You are both such bleedin’ idiots._


End file.
